


Hunger

by TheKnittingLady



Category: Criminal Minds
Genre: Eating Disorders, F/M, Past Abuse, Rape/Non-con Elements
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-10-04
Updated: 2014-11-27
Packaged: 2018-02-19 19:36:49
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con, Underage
Chapters: 31
Words: 32,267
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2400371
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheKnittingLady/pseuds/TheKnittingLady
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Desperate times call for desperate measures.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

_It is easier to build strong children than to repair broken men._

_\- Frederick Douglass_

_ Death by starvation is slow. _

  _\- Mary Austin_

* * *

**Chapter 1**  
Nye County courthouse  
June 1999

Even though they knew to cover the windows to keep out the heat the cab of the truck was still an oven.

He opened the windows before he put the papers he carried in the file box behind the seat. Everything they needed was back there, the file box with the identities they had patiently built over the past two years, a lockbox tucked into the frame with what he hoped would be enough cash to carry them through, and two battered guitar cases. That and the old Ford truck under him were all they were taking with them into their new life.

That and each other. They were newlyweds now.

“He’s going to catch us.” She said.

He looked over at the woman sitting beside him. For the first time in years her face was bare, her hair hung undone, her body was allowed to relax into its natural contours. She was utterly beautiful to his eyes.   But when she looked at him those eyes that ought to crackle with sharp intelligence and strong personality showed the cowed fear that had been forced into her over the past two and a half years. “No, he won’t.”

“You sound so sure.”

“He’s not omniscient. Not outside of the city anyway.”

“I’d like to believe that.”

“Once we’re not part of his daily experience he’ll forget about us. Right now his focus is on Sandra, he probably won’t even notice we’ve gone.”

“The others will tell.”

“Doubtful. He disgusts them. They only stay because of the blackmail threat he holds.”

“He’ll come after us once Sandra dies.”

He could understand where her fear was coming for him; she had borne the brunt of the threats over the years. “It’ll take a while, her heart is strong. By then he’ll have forgotten. And even if he tries we’re going to a good place to hide, spending our days in an environment he can’t work in and erased our paper trail. He’s not going to find us.”

“I hope not.”

He gave her his best reassuring smile. “We can do this. Next stop LA?”

“Yeah.”

He fired up the engine. “It’s almost six hours to get there. Want to stop for anything?”

She made a disgusted sound. “God no.”

“All right.”

* * *

.

* * *

This one is set before the first episode of Season 1.  Expect some changes to cannon along the way. 


	2. Chapter 2

**Chapter 2**  
BAU Headquarters  
Quantico VA  
January 2003

He was freezing. Even with the layers he wore he could still feel the cold from the air around him. It snaked under his collar and up his pants. How could they go about as they did in this chill?

He headed in the direction indicated, but a too fast turn left the world dipping and swimming around him. He took a deep breath, mustered his discipline once more, and walked straight without catching the wall. He stopped at the nearest bathroom, pulled out his phone, sent a text. _Here we go_. Then he pulled a small bottle out of his bag and chugged it down.

 _You can do it._ The text came back. _I have every faith in you._

He took a deep breath, feeling the liquid in the bottle settle the swirling in his head for now. He could do this. He had to.

* * *

 

“We have a new team member.” Gideon said.

Derek Morgan was just settling into the chair across from his desk as his mentor said that. “I heard.” He said as he picked up the file set in front of him. Gideon had to have a reason for sharing this. He started at the top. “Doctor?”

“Triple PhD out of CalTech.”

“No field experience?”

“Not official.”

Which meant something else. Morgan kept reading down the page. “Wait, 21?”

“Yeah.”

“And three PhD’s?”

“Yeah. Tested IQ of 187. They had to come up with a new test to get that.”

Holy damn. “That ought to be an asset.” He kept reading. “Certified eidetic memory?”

“He remembers everything he sees, hears and reads. Good enough to hold up as fact in court.”

“No wonder you want this kid.”

“He also reads 20,000 words a minute and breaks codes faster than most computers.”

“Whoa.” Morgan kept reading. “Waiver, waiver, waiver...he got a waiver for every physical test at the Academy.”

“He didn’t quite clear the physical.”

“Why not?”

“Something medical. They still passed him; I don’t think it’ll be a field issue. He could use some help with marksmanship.”

Morgan wasn’t one hundred percent on that not being a field issue. “I’ll work with him. Married?”

“Yeah.”

Kid grew up fast. “You didn’t call me in here just to ask me to show him the ropes. What’s not in this file?”

Gideon took it back. “I don’t know.”

Huh. Gideon didn’t know? “He’s hiding something?”

“Something. He doesn’t read as a perp though.”

“A victim?”

Gideon nodded, “Of what is the question.”

“Did anything come up on the background check?”

“No, but that only goes back to 18,” Gideon gave him a half smile. “You know that.”

Yes, he was quite glad that the FBI couldn’t look at his juvenile record. But he’d been well into his career when he joined the unit. “So only three years. You want me to look into it?”

“Quietly, he’s keeping it to himself for a reason. And we’re not supposed to profile each other.”

“Got it; when’s he coming in?”

“He’s been down with HR; he ought to be coming up for the grand tour....” Gideon turned and looked out the window to the bullpen, “Now.”

Morgan looked over. Garcia was walking in to the unit, followed by what he could best describe as a cross between the Absentminded Professor and a scarecrow. “Damn.”

“Have fun.” Gideon went back to the file he was reading.

Morgan took the hint and went out there. The kid looked up as he came around to the desk. Kid had a good inch on him in height for starters, putting him just over six feet. He was bundled into a sweater vest under his suit jacket, old school style.   And of course too long hair and a pair of coke bottle glasses. “Hey. Derek Morgan, welcome to the team.”

“Spencer Reid.” He offered his hand, “Nice to meet you.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> First place where I have fiddled with cannon. In this story Morgan, Garcia and Elle all joined the team before Reid.


	3. Chapter 3

**Chapter 03**

**April 2003**

It had been a week and a half. That last case needed to be washed out of the brain, preferably with alcohol, good music, better honeys and awesome friends. "So where are we going?" Morgan asked.

"My turn to pick," JJ said, coming around the corner in jeans and a t-shirt, having changed in the locker room. "Dietel's Tavern"

"I heard that place is a dive." Elle said, "Some kind of biker bar."

"Definitely a roadhouse, but they're having this new band on tonight. Everyone is talking about them; they say the lead singer is a-ma-zing."

"Lucy and the Rockets?" Garcia asked.

"Yeah."

"Oh, I've heard the same thing."

"Long as the beer is cold." Morgan was willing to try anyplace once. He looked over at the desk across from his, "Reid, you coming?"

"No, I need to get home." Reid gave him that same puppy dog smile he always had. He was already packing up.

"You know even Haley lets Hotch out once and a while." Elle told him. "Why don't you call your wife, have her join us."

"Yeah, we'd love to meet her." JJ said.

"Maybe next time. See you all on Monday." With a wave Reid was heading to the exit.

They watched him go, waited for the elevator doors to shut. "Do we even know his wife's name yet?" Elle asked.

"Nope," JJ said. "Guess he likes his privacy."

"His loss," Morgan said. "Let's go."

As predicted Dietel's Tavern was a dive. But it was hard to tell the real rednecks and bikers from the rich guys slumming as rednecks and bikers. Either way, the place was packed to the gills. Somehow they managed to get a table with a decent view of the stage, and their hands on some cold beers. "I guess word gets around." JJ said

"From what I could tell online the lead singer is from LA." Garcia said. "She had a following back there. She came out here something like a year ago and put a new band together. I guess people just want to see what the hype is all about."

Just about then one of the guys came out. He gave the usual bit at the mike about having a good time tonight and all that, working up the crowd until finally, "Let's give it up for Lucy and The Rockets!"

The first song opened with a chord on a guitar that was all balls. Said guitar was vintage Gibson and in the hands of one of the hotter babes Morgan had ever laid eyes on. She was tall, six foot easy in red cowboy boots, willowy but with curves exactly where they ought to be under jeans and a white shirt that were just the right amount of snug. She had rich brown curls worn in a braid that fell to the small of her back, green eyes with the lazy look of just rolled out of a busy bed, and lush, soft lips just made for that mike in front of her. But it was the attitude that got your attention. She stepped up and took command of the crowd from the moment the light hit her. She owned this crowd, pure and simple, and they were all going to listen to what she had to say.

_"She had a dream_   
_Boy, it was a good one_   
_So she chased after her dream_   
_With much desire._   
_But when she got to close to her_   
_Expectations..."_

It was all sultry growl over the first verse as her eyes challenged every man and half the women in the room. The music was straight up rock with just a little country, easy to go down smooth with enough passion and heat to catch the attention. And when the chorus kicked in and she kicked on those afterburners she sold it to the crowd three minutes in to her first number.

Morgan looked over at Elle. "Daymn." She said with a laugh.

Daymn was right.

Some folks were dancing but most were singing and clapping and cheering along. She got the energy pumped and kept it high, her only slow down was one hot as hell ballad that had her doing this swivel of her hips when she sang about that slow Southern style. With that one song she fueled a few hundred fantasies and told every one of them that they weren't getting anything else. She was out of everyone's league.

But then Derek Morgan was never one to turn down a challenge.

When the show was over, after much hooting and hollering and a holy crap cover of Johnny B Goode for an encore just to show off her chops on that guitar, he looked over and spotted her at the end of the bar, tucked into the shadows with some older woman, but their body language said friends not couple. There was music going, canned but people were getting up to dance, including the ladies at the table. "You are not going to try that." Garcia said.

"Yeah I am." Morgan said with a grin.

"Good luck my prince."

It was corny but it always got the right attention. He moved over to the bar and got sent over a drink. As he watched the tender brought her a...a bottle of water, and indicated it was from him. She met his eyes and gave him a smile he took as an invitation, so he moved down that way. "Good show tonight."

"Thank you. And thank you for the drink." Her speaking voice was just as sweet as her singing, sounded like cashmere blankets and rain drenched nights with just a hint of something south of the border.

"So I got to know, what were you playing up there?"

"Acoustic's a 1947 Martin D-18 . Electric's a Gibson ES-339 from 1959." She dipped her head down and gave him a lazy smile. "Same model Chuck Berry played."

"That's a sweet piece." Like he knew anything about guitars.

"Yeah, these are my babies."

"So I heard you were new in town."

"Yeah, about ten months now."

"And how have I missed you in all this time."

She chuckled a little at that. "Smooth talker."

He flashed her that grin. "I try."

"You're pretty good."

"Thank you. You know, you don't seem like a Lucy to me."

She gave him a slow smile. "Guys who like my kind of music couldn't pronounce Lucero if they tried. And I don't like playing La Bamba."

He chuckled at that. "Lucero. Pretty name for a pretty lady."

"There you go talking smooth again."

"How about I take you someplace quieter, buy you something more than water, tell you about DC? Lady like you deserves to be shown off someplace special."

She chuckled more at that. "Does that really work for you?"

Ouch. "Most of the time," he laughed along with her. Get a girl laughing and you were going somewhere.

But not where he wanted to go. She must have had her phone on vibrate and it must have gone off. She fished it out of her pocket and had a look at the text there. "Sorry smooth talker, you're gonna have to find another lady to show off. I'm out for the night."

"Aww." He watched her pull on her jacket, black leather of course, swing a loaded backpack to her back and pick up a guitar case in each hand. She said her good-bys to the woman on her other side, and headed for the door.

"She's got someone you know." The woman said. "He's out at Quantico." He recognized her as the fiddler from the band, watched her sip from what looked like a glass of rye.

Quantico was a Marine base mostly. She wasn't wearing a ring so probably boyfriend who had been transferred out, that would explain leaving LA where she was more likely to be discovered for DC, which was not known for its music scene. "How long do things last in rock and roll?" He asked as he watched her through the open door. He watched an old Ford pull into the lot and pick her up.

She laughed. "She is out of your league."

Maybe so, Morgan thought. He wasn't going to chase her, he wasn't like that. But if he ever saw her again he was going to have to try

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Lyrics from "Paper in fire" by John Mellencamp. No copyright infringement intended.
> 
> http://youtu.be/myo9wXrNUP4
> 
> Casting notes: Ana de Armas as Lucero
> 
> http://ilarge.listal.com/image/3187646/936full-ana-de-armas.jpg


	4. Chapter 4

**Chapter 04**   
**Catalina Apartments**   
**Pasadena, California**   
**January 2000**

Those who said California had no winters had never lived through the wet season in Los Angeles.

The night it poured down he lay on his back as she straddled him and took him deep. He groaned at the sensation of her heat around him, and the sliding pull of her body as he hit some sensitive spot and she lifted off, only to sink down and take him once more. She rode him until she gasped and sank all the way and shook as her body tightened. Her howls were the counterpoint to the distant roar of the sea as he drowned in her.

Afterward she draped over him like a blanket, and the rain on the roof isolated them from the world into their own warm space of love and pleasure.

The next morning it was still raining. There was a decided chill in the air. It was Sunday, there was no place they had to be, and so he made pancakes and eggs and they savored a lazy breakfast while they listened to old mystery radio shows.

The next morning an email landed in his box.

He told his boss it was an emergency and went to deal with the matter. When he got home he found an exotic pile of electonica on the coffee table. “He emailed you too,” he said. It wasn’t a question.

She nodded, a sad, hopeless look on her face. “Sandra died four days ago. I borrowed this gear from the lab. Look.” She turned the monitor so he could see. Sure enough, the system was detecting several bugs in the room. From the location they were likely hidden cameras, but audio was always a possibility.

He got up and collected his pack, handing her hers and drawing her out the door with him and down the path back toward campus. “I spoke with the Dean of housing.” He said. “I already have keys to a new apartment.”

“That was quick.”

“They’re taking stalking accusations seriously these days.”

“So we just...move?”

He took a deep breath. “It’s likely this will keep happening. The best way to break a stalker is to not engage.”

“He’s like Voldemort or something! He’s not going to stop!”

Unfortunately she was likely right. “I know, but at least we won’t be encouraging him. I think we should move our stuff into a storage unit for now. Just keep some inexpensive basics at the apartment.”

“That way if it happens again we can simply not go home.” She said, finishing his thought in that way they had.

“Exactly. Go crash on someone’s couch or get a cheap hotel room until we can find another place. Let him stare at an empty apartment until he gets bored.”

She nodded. “I like it. We’ll just have to get in the habit of stopping at the storage locker every day. Live out of our packs. Hell, we practically do that anyway, we’re always on campus.”

“And in the meantime we’ll see who we can round up to move us, so he doesn’t see us again.”

She smiled and curled her arms around his. “And you said brains weren’t enough to protect me.”

He rested his cheek against her hair a moment. “It’ll be hard.” He said. “But it won’t be forever. What do you want for a house when it’s over?”

“That’s easy.” She said. “A country farmhouse, all cozy, with a big kitchen and a big featherbed. Even if it’s in the city. And a cat. No, two cats.”

He thought about it and nodded. “I like it. Let’s do it.”

* * *

 

They found a group of students willing to move them into storage at a reasonable cost. It wasn’t much, mostly books, files, clothing. In their new apartment they kept only simple, inexpensive basics, towels, sheets, toiletries. They lived out of their packs, stopping at the storage unit every day to pick up clothes and put away papers.

For two weeks they were treated to an endless stream of invectives, cursing them, calling them names, telling them what horrible selfish children they were. He deserved to watch them in their most intimate moments after all he had done for them. If they didn’t live according to his desires their lives would fall apart. He would send men to take her and have their way with her. They ignored all of it.

Two weeks after they moved the pictures came again. This time they told the Dean of Housing they’d move in again after this cycle stopped, and they started couch surfing. They never stayed in the same place more than two nights in a row, sleeping on friend’s couches, on floors, in guest rooms or cheap hotel rooms. More than once they slept on an air mattress in the back of the truck.

Six weeks of harassment later they received word that Voldemort, as they now called him, had married once more. Her name was Lana. The harassment had been tapering as the wedding drew near, now it stopped entirely.

They moved back in to housing, but kept up the system of keeping everything in storage, keeping the apartment so they could easily walk away.

After all, Lana had less than two years to live now.


	5. Chapter 5

**Chapter 05  
September 2003**

The hardest part was trying to act normal, was trying to fit in while maintaining discipline. After all, if they suspected it would lead to questions. Questions would lead to losing a layer of protection. And they didn’t dare lose a single layer. Not until they were sure.

Some days it was harder than others.

* * *

 

“What are you doing?” Elle asked.

Reid was holding a carton of crappy Chinese food in one hand and trying to lift bits to his mouth with the other. “Trying to...uh...um...did we get forks?”

“No.” She was already starting to chuckle at him.

“Did you know that experts credit Confucius with the advent of the chopstick? He equated knives with acts of aggression.”

“You don’t know how to use them, do you?” Morgan said, chuckling.

“It’s like trying to forage for dinner with a pair of number 2 pencils!” Reid gave it up, stuck the sticks in his carton, and turned back to the case board.

“Here, let me help you.” JJ said. She picked up his chopsticks and started winding a rubber band around the ends.

“No thanks, I’m not that hungry. You know, there’s something about the geographic profile I just realized....”

* * *

 

Elle was the first one to think about it the next morning. “Where’s Reid?” She asked as she settled into her booth in the diner.

“Already at the station working,” Morgan said as JJ passed over the coffee. “Early riser already ate.”

“Oh.”

Come lunch they ordered in sandwiches. Reid ordered a club sandwich with all the trimmings which then sat as he got involved with a particular chunk of the profile.

Come the end of the day, after the killer was locked up and the victims at the hospital with their loved ones they decided to go back to the diner for a late supper. “You go on ahead.” Reid said. “I’m going to head back to the hotel.”

“You okay?” JJ asked.

“Yeah, I just want to call my wife before she goes to bed, tell her we’ll be home tomorrow.”

“Okay. Good night.”

“Okay, I’ve got twenty that says that he doesn’t show up for breakfast tomorrow.” Elle said as soon as Reid was out of ear shot.

“Why not?” Morgan asked.

“He never eats! When was the last time you saw him actually eat anything but coffee?”

“He has to eat sometime.” JJ said. “He’s still going.”

“Yeah. I’m just saying it’s weird, that’s all.”

But Morgan was frowning. “Are you thinking eating disorder?” Gideon had said something wasn’t right there.

“No. I don’t know. I’m just saying it’s weird, that’s all.” Elle replied.

* * *

 

Garcia wasn’t the only one who could use a computer. Morgan might not be a wizard with them like she was but he could manage some simple research. So when he got back to his room he looked up the symptoms of an eating disorder.

  *          Refusal to maintain a body weight that is at or above the minimum normal weight for your age and height
  *          Refusal to eat and denial of hunger
  *          Intense fear of gaining weight or becoming fat, even though you're underweight
  *          Denying the seriousness of having a low body weight, or having a distorted image of your appearance or shape
  *          A negative or distorted self-image
  *          Excessive exercise
  *          Flat mood or lack of emotion
  *          Irritability
  *          Fear of eating in public
  *          Preoccupation with food
  *          Social withdrawal
  *          Thin appearance
  *          Trouble sleeping
  *          Soft, downy hair present on the body (lanugo)
  *          Menstrual irregularities or loss of menstruation (amenorrhea)
  *          Constipation
  *          Abdominal pain
  *          Dry skin
  *          Frequently being cold
  *          Irregular heart rhythms
  *          Low blood pressure
  *          Dehydration



So what were we looking at here. First question, was he underweight? It was hard to tell, he nearly always wore layers of sweaters, sometimes under a sport coat, even when they went to Florida that one time and everyone was sweating bullets. So, how do we find out? He pulled out his phone. “Hey baby girl, you at work?”

“Of course, I practically live here.” Garcia replied

“Can you do something for me?”

“I can do lots of things for you. Won’t be as fun over the phone though.”

Morgan chuckled. “Not like that. Can you see if Reid’s weight is listed in his personnel file?”

“Looking in personnel files is naaaaughty.” He heard her typing in the background. “Um, one-twelve. Why?”

“I’m not sure yet.”

“But you will tell me when you are, yes?”

“I will momma. Promise.”

“You better. Goddess out.”

“Okay, one-twelve. He found a calculator online, punched in the numbers, six-one, male, twenty-one, and got back a healthy weight range of 140-190. Okay, that would be the first criteria down. Reid was way too skinny.

What about the rest? Refusal to eat? Check, he evaded eating every time they turned around.   
Refusal to gain weight? If you weren’t eating when it was right in front of you what else could it be.  
Denying the seriousness of the problem or insisting he was fat? Hmmmm, he didn’t know about the first but Reid referred to himself as skinny, so maybe not.   
Negative self-image? Not the genius.   
Excessive exercise? Hells no, other than walking from what he could tell the kid lifted books.   
Flat emotional affect? Nope, not that he could tell.   
Irritability? Nope, again, kid was cheerful and rolled with the punches.  
Fear of eating in public? Maybe that was why he didn’t eat around them  
Preoccupation with food? Not that he could tell  
Social withdrawal? He never went out with them. Or anywhere else from what he could tell.  
Thin appearance? Oh, so much  
Trouble sleeping? He’d slept next door to him more than once, seemed like the kid never did sleep  
Languo? Constipation? Dry skin? Abdominal pain? Nope, not going to ask  
Frequently cold? See sweaters in Florida  
Irregular heart? Low blood pressure? Dehydration? They wouldn’t have let him in the FBI

Morgan sat back and sighed. There was no way around it, Reid was showing eight symptoms, including at least three out of the top five, maybe four. This was the problem Gideon was worried about.

Now what was he going to do about it?

 


	6. Chapter 6

**Chapter 06**

**September 2003**

The next night Morgan was supposed to have a date with a sweet little hunny at a rocking club downtown, just the distraction he needed while he tried to figure out what to do about Reid. But she ended up having to go in to work, of course. Not that it mattered, he could find someone if he wanted the company.

He didn’t realize which band was playing that night.

After the last set he waited a bit and then made his way to the bar. Sure enough, there in the shadows was a familiar face with water in her glass. “Lucero, I cannot figure out if that’s supposed to mean Morning Star or Evening Star, the web is running fifty-fifty on it.”

“Smooth talker.” Lucero said, her head dropping to her upraised hand as she gave him a lazy smile. “The Evening Star was the most beautiful woman of her generation, and a queen beloved by two races and three kingdoms. The Morning Star is another name for Lucifer himself.” She gave him a lazy smile. “Think I’ll take both, the devil and the queen.”

“Now who’s talking smooth?” She didn’t look right; her affect was off, her eyes wandering. “You all right?”

“Yeah, I’m good. Thanks for asking.”

No, she was not good. And being in rock and roll and the way she was acting, her body language and all, there was a logical cause. “Aww, now come on, what did you take?” She leaned back, looked him over from boot to head, hanging on to the bar for balance as she did, then leaned forward and stuck her hand in his right pocket. “Hey, what are you doing?”

She came back with his badge folder but didn’t open it before handing it back. “Thought I smelled PoPo,” she said. “Don’t worry officer I never touch the stuff. I didn’t sleep well last night and we did three shows today. I am beat.”

Ahhh, exhaustion could mimic being on drugs, sure. “Didn’t sleep well huh? That man not taking care of you?”

She laughed at that. “You do not give up easily, do you smooth talker?”

“Never.”

She shook her head and fished something on a chain up from the depths of her shirt. “I don’t sleep well when my _husband_ isn’t home.” She said, putting on the wedding ring she wore. “He’s been away on work for a few nights. Ring gets in the way when I play.” Husband. Well that put a different spin on things. He started laughing, at himself mostly. “And do not get any ideas.” She said. “I do not need company when he’s not around.”

“I wasn’t going to go there.” Nope, he was not a home wrecker. Plenty of free fish in the sea. “Although now I am curious.”

Of course just then her phone must have gone off. “Your curiosity is going to have to keep.” She said as she checked it and fetched her gear from behind the bar. “I’m getting a good night sleep tonight.”

Which meant that said husband had to be home. “All right. All right.”

“Good night smooth talker.” With a guitar in each hand she headed out. As the door opened he caught sight of the same old truck waiting for her.

Morgan raised his glass to the man in the truck. Whoever he was he had to be something to keep up with woman like that.


	7. Chapter 7

**Chapter 07**   
  
**September 2000**

It was noon, one of the first days of the fall semester. “That was quick.” She said as he settled on the bench beside her.

“Yeah. I guess Lana had a weak heart. It’s unfortunate.” This spot was sheltered, private, safer. He opened the bag she had brought him.

“She chose to chase him.”

“But she couldn’t have known what she was getting herself in to.”

“True. So where are we sleeping tonight?”

“The truck, unless you’ve had a chance to make other arrangements.”

“No. Solomon said we could crash at her place but I want to give her more than ten hours notice.”

“Well, we’ll spend the next two nights in the truck and see about maybe Thursday and Friday with her then. I’ll give the keys back to the Dean.”

“All right.”

* * *

 

Two days later they received e-mails with pictures of them sitting on that bench, and the kind of commentary that left him shaking with anger and disgust and memories of fear. “How the hell did his people get on campus?” She asked as she paced around the empty classroom.

He did not respond to her tone. Fear made her peevish. “I don’t know. We just have to control the situation.”

“How are we supposed to control this situation?”

“Spend as little time together in public as possible. He’s not internet aware, we can communicate that way during the day, meet in a different classroom every time. He can’t put cameras everywhere on campus. And then we go home just to shower and sleep.”

She considered this, poking at it from every angle in her mind, “And what about...other activities?”

“We can get a hotel room or the back of the truck.”

“Oh, I could think of so many dirty comments about that.”

He decided not to justify her thoughts with a reply. “If we don’t give his men the chance to take pictures he won’t have anything to respond to.”

She nodded. “Makes sense to me.” She stepped up into his arms, rested her head against his chest. “He scares me, you know. Still.”

He held her close, ran his hand over her hair. “He can’t get to us here.”

“No, he _hasn’t_ gotten to us here. It’s only a matter of time before he finds a way. And if he does...”

He pulled her in tighter. If Voldemort did find them here he knew what would happen. He’d be tortured again, and she would be given to another man to.... “He won’t. He’ll lose interest this time.”

“You hope.”

“I do.”

* * *

 

Within days their e-mail boxes and voice mail boxes were overflowing with the screaming rants of madness.  See, your marriage is falling apart. She’s off with other men, you know what they’ll do. He’s off with other women, he doesn’t want you. They ignored it all. Voldemort tried to increase the pressure to get some kind of response. Packages sent to the mailroom in their names remained untouched, personal deliveries were politely refused. When they left campus small groups of men trailed them, calling out taunts and threats. They stopped leaving campus, warned security, stayed with groups of acquaintances so they wouldn’t be caught alone.

Three times a day they met in an empty classroom for thirty minutes, before going about their day. It was hard but they kept in contact electronically all day. In the end they swore they felt even closer

Six weeks later Voldemort married once more, and it stopped.

Her name was Carla. She had less than two years to live.


	8. Chapter 8

**Chapter 08**

**September 2003**

He wished there was some way to get out of this. LA was the last place he wanted to be.

Too many memories. Too much risk.

But he had to go along. He could not call attention. He could not open himself to questions.

They needed this protection.

* * *

"You should have listened to me." Reid said.

Of course Monday morning they left bright and early for an emergency case in LA. Morgan wasn't going to bring it up whatever his friend's problem was in the field. "It wouldn't have saved that much time, Reid. Let it go."

"The interchange between the 405 and 101 freeways is consistently rated the worst interchange in the entire world."

"Why do you know that?"

"It's in the government report."

The Unsub had been leaving his victims in cars parked on the street. There was a nice crowd going around the crime scene. "So what?"

"So, you work for the government. What, you don't read the reports?"

"On traffic patterns in a city twenty-five hundred miles away from where I live?"

"Twenty-two hundred and ninety-five miles."

"Do not make me smack you in front of all these people." Wait, what was that? "Are you smiling? Why are you smiling?"

Reid chuckled and let his smile grow. "CalTech is thirty minutes from here. I used to commute over that interchange. That's why everyone thinks I'm such a bad driver, driving in LA takes a unique skill set."

Son of a... "That does not mean you get to drive now."

"Awww..."

"Hush." They finally made it to the latest crime scene and approached the man who looked to be in charge. "Detective Owen Kim?"

"That's me." The detective said.

"FBI." Morgan shared the badge. "SSA Derek Morgan, Dr. Spencer Reid. So what have you got here?"

"This is our fifth in two weeks." He showed them the car with the body, all laid out in a creepy tableau with a Day of the Dead theme going on. "We haven't identified this one yet but a couple have come back as known members of the Sonora Cartel."

"The Sonora Cartel?" Reid asked, "California's not part of their territory."

"No, and we haven't seen any activity that would indicate a territory grab." Kim said, "Which is part of what's making this so weird. Everyone we've talked to insists that the local gangs have not been going after Sonora men. This is not a gang war."

"So what is it then?" Morgan asked.

"You tell me."

Morgan moved to the crime scene and squatted down, the better to look in the window of the lowered car. But he was only partially looking over the scene, when Kim mentioned the Sonora cartel Reid had come all over alert, not that it was obvious. Now he wanted to see what was setting his friend off as much as he wanted to see what was going on. "You said the previous ones had their throats cut?"

"Yeah, this is new. We just found this one while you were in route, we didn't have time to get you the paperwork." Kim replied.

This one didn't just have his throat cut. His throat had been slit from neck to halfway down his sternum. Not only had his esophagus been removed but someone had reached in and pulled up his stomach as well, leaving it to rest on the victim's chest. From the blood spatter in the car it had been done while the victim was still alive.

But afterward someone had set out a feast.

There were platters and bowls of food neatly set out on all surfaces in the car. A plate of some kind of fried dumpling sat on the guys lap. "What is that?" Morgan asked.

He watched Reid fixate them, saw fear flit across his eyes as he swallowed. "They're called toritos," Reid said. "Chile peppers, in this case habanero, are hollowed out, stuffed with a spiced seafood mixture, wrapped in bacon and cooked. The bacon catches the liquid from the chile, maintaining the heat."

"Jesus. Those would bite back." Morgan turned his head to look at his friend. Reid's tone had changed, and his body language, and even the look on his face. His voice had gone from teasing and friendly to cold and dead with a hint of repressed anger. His body had gone from lanky and easy to rigid and on alert. And his face, Morgan now knew that when Dr. Reid got seriously angry you could shave with his cheekbones. "What is going on?" Morgan asked quietly.

"We're looking at a crime scene. Trying to build a profile."

"That's not what I'm asking." Reid knew more about this than he was letting on, a lot more. As Morgan watched he turned to look in the car mirrors, looking at the crowd without being obvious about it.

By now the crowd around the crime scene had grown thicker. Morgan stood up to take a look; he saw no reason not to be obvious. A handful of big, bulky, meaty men had pushed their way right up to the barricade. Morgan wasn't familiar with the exact colors of every gang but he could tell Latino gang members when he saw them. When they spotted him looking they grinned. "Heyyyyy, Miguel." One of them called out.

Nope, Reid could get even angrier. Morgan watched his friend nearly ripple with it. "They talking to you?" He asked quietly.

"Mírate, eres piel y huesos." The gangbanger called out.

"What makes you think that?" Reid asked.

"Sólo a los perros les gustan los huesos."

"Maybe because I can hear your teeth grinding."

"I don't know who they're talking to." Even though he was having trouble concealing his anger Reid gave no other indication that he was saying anything but the truth. "I think this is an internal gang issue."

"You think?"

"Sabes lo que dice Miguel," One of the gangbangers called out.

"Look at everything piled in here. But whoever did this made him die knowing he couldn't eat it no matter how much he wanted it. They were torturing him for gluttony."

"You think these guys are dealers, being greedy, taking more than their fair share?"

"él te dará todo si vuelves a casa."

"I think it's likely." Reid said.

"But this is out of the Sonoran Cartel territory. Why here?"

"Countermeasure maybe. We might be looking for a pro."

"Keep this away from whoever hired him."

"Y trae a tu puta contigo."

"Your teeth are grinding again." Morgan noted.

"I think we're done here." Reid started heading back to the SUV.

Morgan wasn't done though. He flagged down Kim. "Hey, can your guys get anything on those three over there? Might want to talk to them."

"Sure."

But by the time the cops got over there the gang members had slipped into the crowd and were gone.

* * *

 

Later that night Morgan hit the computer again. Turns out toritos were commonly made with guero peppers, similar to jalapenos. He checked the lab report; the ones in the dead guy's lap were in fact made with habaneros. So how did Reid know what was hiding under the layer of bacon?

Morgan shook his head. He hated mysteries when they involved his friends.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Some dialogue from Criminal Minds 03x10 "True Night". No copyright infringement intended.
> 
> Hopefully I didn't mangle the Spanish too badly. I was working with Google translate and fifteen year old memories of a California street dialect.


	9. Chapter 9

**Chapter 09**

**September 2003**

Somehow, Morgan wasn’t sure how, Reid managed to spin the bullshit he was spouting into a profile that actually managed to catch the guy they were likely looking for. Sure enough, he was a known hit man for the Sonora Cartel. And as they expected he didn’t say a word. He was completely impassive until he spotted Reid, then he glared at him and after him for as long as they were there.

Morgan wanted to ask Reid more about what the hell was going on, but he didn’t want to say anything in front of Hotch and make it all official so he couldn’t say anything on the plane. And as soon as they landed Gideon called Reid in to have him help with something else. “You two going to be done anytime soon?” Morgan asked.

“Not likely.” Gideon replied.

Great. Well, he’d just get on Reid tomorrow. He wouldn’t be able to avoid it forever.

Morgan caught the shuttle bus to the station, and then the Amtrak commuter back into the city. As he was heading over to the Metro line to catch the subway home he heard some guitar music. What the hell, some of the local buskers were pretty good, he’d picked up a CD a couple of times. He followed the sound of the music to see what was up.

He was a little surprised when the music led him back to a quiet corner, well out of the way of traffic. And it wasn’t a busker at all, unless gigs didn’t pay anymore. Green eyes and a vintage guitar, Lucero had camped herself in a quiet corner of the station, had her acoustic out, was strumming and writing in a music notebook. “Anything good?” he asked quietly.

She raised an eyebrow and started singing. It wasn’t her usual, it was soft and quiet and full of haunting pain. It was the song of someone facing the darkness, laced with longing and regret.

_Ain't no angel gonna greet me._   
_It's just you and I my friend._   
_My clothes don't fit me no more,_   
_I’d walk a thousand miles_   
_Just to slip this skin._

_Night is falling and I’m lying awake_   
_I can feel myself fading away_   
_So receive me lover with your faithful kiss_   
_Or will we leave each other alone like this_

“Sounds like a hard time to me.” Morgan said.

“It was.” She replied. “We got to stop meeting like this smooth talker.”

He’d seen her on stage, all made up and dressed up and lit just so, and he’d seen her in dark smoky bars, but this was the first time he’d seen her in everyday light. Now with her song haunting his ears he looked her over. She didn’t look right to him. She was bundled in boots and a sweater and a heavier knitted coat and a scarf around her neck even though it wasn’t that cold for fall. “Derek.” He said. “Are you okay?” He asked as he crouched down beside her.

She looked surprised by this. “I am as far as I know.”

No, she didn’t look all right. Her hair looked too brittle, her cheekbones too sharp. She wore gloves that exposed her fingertips so she could play but he could see the bones of her wrists under them. “No, come on now. If you’re in trouble I can help.”

“Well ain’t you sweet.” She smiled up at him. “Don’t worry; I’ve got a place to go tonight and money in the bank. And my husband treats me like a queen.”

She wasn’t lying, he could tell that much. “All right, if you’re sure?”

“I am.” Her phone must have gone off again; she fished it out to check.

“You waiting on that man of yours again?”

“Seems like I do that a lot, I know.”

Something really did not seem right at all with her. “I’d leave you my number, you know, just in case but I don’t have any cards with me.” He needed to order a new box.

She chuckled. “If I need you I can find you, PoPo. I swear everything’s exactly how it needs to be.”

“All right.” He wasn’t going to push it. “Something tells me I’ll be seeing you around.”

“This town is small.” Lucero smiled up at him. “Have a good one smooth talker.”

Morgan made it look like he was leaving, but he found a vantage point and settled in to watch. She stayed there for another good thirty minutes, then she started packing up. He followed her as she headed to meet the southbound Amtrak, but he lost her in the crowd.

Should have left her my number, he thought, as he headed home.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Lyrics from “Streets of Philadelphia”, words and music by Bruce Springsteen. No copyright infringement intended.
> 
> http://youtu.be/4z2DtNW79sQ


	10. Chapter 10

**Chapter 10**

**May 2001**

They were eighteen now, and life was golden. They were the same age as the incoming freshman, and it amused them to see how they were trying to pair up, hook up, meet up in new and different configurations while enjoying that first taste of freedom and those last throws of puberty. While every night they got to go home and play with their best friend all they wanted. “I think I might have to start wearing bras soon.” She said one night, in between kisses.

He kissed her with a hum of pleasure. Their bodies were finally catching up to their minds and souls, settling into adult shapes and sizes at last. He’d been thinking of new shirts, his old ones were getting rather tight in the shoulder. In reply his hand skimmed up her side and cupped her where she was growing rich and full, making her gasp and arch as he pictured her in something lacy. “That might be fun.”

She laughed delightedly and rolled to him. “I’ll show you fun.”

Three days later the mail arrived, and with it a package from a well-known lingerie company. She laughed wickedly when she opened it and found the black, lacy things. “Good guess on the size.” She said.

He up from his books and frowned. “I didn’t buy you anything.”

She frowned and looked at the card. As he watched all of the color ran out of her face, and she threw the package across the room as if it burned. He didn’t say anything; he packed his books back in his pack, put his pack on his back, picked up her belongs and the note, and nudged her out the door.

Once they reached the safety of the library he stopped and read the note. It talked about how she was growing into a beautiful woman, how he looked forward to seeing more, to seeing her do what pleased him in stomach turning detail. Him. The one they called Voldemort now. “I’m sorry.” He said.

She was shaking even though it was a warm California spring. “I don’t know what to do.” She said. “We’re not supposed to encourage him but I can’t help it! I can’t stop getting older!”

His mind worked this way, links were made faster than he could track them, solutions just appeared to him and they always worked. “It’s not getting older.” He said. “It’s puberty.”

She shrugged. “The difference?”

“You can shut down puberty.” He took a deep breath and told her how.

She paced in a slow circle while she considered this. “It would work.” She said. “It’s dangerous though.”

“I know.” He said. “We’ll have to be careful.”

“And it’s not an instant fix. He’s watching us now. Jesus, what happened to his wife anyway?”

“We’ll look later. We don’t have to be here while we work on it. If you’re portable right now I can take that offer at Temple University for the summer. We’ll do it there. By the time we get back he’ll be so repulsed he won’t even want to look at us.”

She sighed and kept pacing for a long moment, but in the end she nodded. “Let’s do it.” She said at last.  "But we should take pictures first.  Remember what we were becoming."

He nodded even as he felt his heart start to break.

* * *

 

He checked that night. Carla had committed suicide. “I can’t say I blame her.” She said

* * *

 

Two weeks later they drove across country to Philadelphia. The day they arrived they got started.

It was physically painful for the first week.

It was psychologically hard for the second.

By the fifth he realized she had stopped reaching for him in the night. “I just don’t want to anymore.” She said.

“Neither do I.” He admitted. “We will again, when this is over.”

“I hope so.”

“All the research confirms it.”

“One study.”

“It was a very good study. Very well done.”

She sighed and curled closer.

By the eighth week they had bought more blankets to pile on the bed. “I just can’t get warm.” She complained as she curled in his arms.

“I know.” He admitted. “Neither can I.” It was a warm, muggy night but they shivered their way to sleep.

At ten weeks they packed up and returned to California, all traces of oncoming adulthood erased from their bodies. They went back to work and school bundled in sweaters despite the heat of a California August. “I scared the crap out of Solomon today.” She said when she met up with him that night. “She was very concerned for me.”

“Really?” He said. “No one said anything to me.”

“They probably just think you’re not paying attention. Have you checked voicemail yet?”

“No.” He pulled his old phone, the one from before the summer, from his pocket and checked. It was full of new messages, all angry ranting and vicious threats. How dare they make him look bad, how _dare_ they.

She smiled. “You’re right, it does feel good to be in control.”

“See. Just be careful, yeah?”

“Stay around others, don’t stop moving. I know.”

The next day he was at his desk when the first delivery arrived. He stood and very deliberately looked over the pile as he sipped his black coffee. “Help yourselves.” He said to the others in the department. “On me.”

He turned his back on the pile. Control was sweet.

* * *

 

The deliveries continued for two weeks. After that they tapered off.

They didn’t bother to learn the name of the new wife. She wouldn’t live long enough to matter.


	11. Chapter 11

**Chapter 11**

**October 2003**

He always knew it wouldn't last.

Now his only hope was that the lie lasted long enough to keep the truth from destroying everything.

* * *

"Reid." Morgan stood in the doorway of the conference room. Reid had a case file spread out; he was doing a consult on something or other, some last bit of work on a Friday afternoon. But whatever it was could wait. "Got a minute?"

"Kinda." He was working on something at the whiteboard.

Morgan shut the door behind him. "We need to talk, man."

"About what?"

"You."

That got Reid's attention. "What about me?"

"Something's going on with you. Ever since that case in LA you've been jumpy as hell."

"Not that I've noticed."

"And what was up with that case anyway? You had nothing to pin that profile on."

"Eh, that happens sometimes. My brain likes to give me answers as a whole, not in parts. Anyway, we got the Unsub."

"Bullshit, Reid. There was something else going on. Those gangbangers at the crime scene were yelling at you. They were calling you out. And the Unsub recognized you; it was all over his body language the moment he laid eyes on you." Now wait, it was coming together in his head, Reid wasn't the only one who sometimes got it all at once. "You recognized what was going on as soon as we got to that fresh scene. They weren't killing guys because they were getting greedy at the till. They were drawing us out there. They were drawing _you_ out there."

Reid turned back to the board. "I don't know what you're talking about."

"I'm talking about how you never eat, Reid. Everyone's noticed it."

"I obviously do. I do my job every day."

"Barely."

"What do you mean?"

"I mean you got a waiver for everything physical."

"Kicking in doors and running down Unsubs is your job, not mine."

"Reid." He stepped over, gripped his friend's hand and shoved his shirtsleeve up, revealing a forearm that was nothing but a stick of bone. "This is not normal. And somehow it relates to all the food in that car. Hell, you knew what that stuff was on sight."

Reid didn't react but his cheekbones were getting sharper. Good, Morgan thought, he was getting to him. "I'm fine." He said as he took his arm back and pushed his sleeve back down.

"Reid, you are not fine."

"I swear everything's exactly how it needs to be"

"Bullshit, Reid." Okay, fine, time for the trump card. "Do I need to go to Hotch about this?"

"Go to Hotch if you need to. I'll go get another physical if it'll make you happy. I already know what they'll say."

"And what is that?"

"That I'm 50 pounds underweight with a BMI of 14.8 and otherwise in perfect health. Exactly as I was when they hired me." He looked at him finally and managed a very small smile. "I know you're worried about me, Morgan, but I really am fine."

And there goes the last symptom. Son of a bitch. "No, you're not."

Reid closed his eyes and sighed. "No, I'm not. But I'm not fixing this right now."

"Why the hell not?"

"I have my reasons." He picked up the file he was working on and walked out of the room. "Excuse me."

Morgan just shook his head as he watched him go.

* * *

That night Morgan decided to go to a club he liked and dance away the mood he was in. He was still worried about the kid but arguing with that brain was like arguing with a brick wall. And he wasn't comfortable going to Hotch without something more than a hunch to go on.

The DJ was hot tonight, the ladies were hotter. It wasn't long before he was able to get his mind off his troubles. But the universe was having a good time with his ass lately; as soon as he got his mind off one problem it threw another one in front of him. As one song died down the DJ got on the mike. "All right, I got something new for you all." He said in a thick, European accent. "Got to work on a song with a singer from around here. She's good, yea? I think you like her. From Lucy and the Rockets, Lucero!"

Yep, it was mystery girl, up there on the stage of a dance club with an acoustic no less. But she stepped it up and owned the crowd, just her and that guitar

_They tell me I'm too young to understand_   
_They say I'm caught up in a dream_   
_Well life will pass me by if I don't open up my eyes_   
_Well that's fine by me_

_So wake me up when it's all over_   
_When I'm wiser and I'm older_   
_All this time I was finding myself_   
_And I didn't know I was lost_

And then the DJ picked it up and carried it hot. People were cheering them on, the club was shaking, all he could do was laugh.

Then the song ended. People cheered.

But that wasn't the only sound in the club.

As the initial cheer died back Morgan heard another sound. It sounded like barking. Howling. Like a dog pack was loose in the club.

He pushed his way toward the sound and found about a dozen or so Latino guys, guys built like damn linebackers, all well dressed, all staring up at the stage and barking, howling, grinning and making sounds and moves like dogs.

No, they were staring up at _her_.

Morgan watched her face go to cold angry as the spotlight went back to the DJ, and he watched her turn on her heel and head backstage. He turned and looked at the dog pack, to see what they would do. They didn't follow her, but one big guy from a table nearby got up. He adjusted what looked like a very expensive Italian suit and headed for the back, followed by a couple of cool character bodyguards.

Something was not right.

Morgan trailed the guy in the suit, flashing his badge to get past security. Yup, sure enough he was headed right toward her. "Hey, Gabi." He said quietly.

She was standing there with her fiddler, packing up her guitar and her pack and didn't look at him. "Ernesto." She said.

Ernesto sighed. "Sabes por qué estoy aquí, Gabi. Él quiere que vuelvas a casa. Tú y Miguel, amboss."

"Estoy en casa. Ésta es mi casa." She replied.

"No, no lo es, Gabi..."

She'd been trying to ignore him while she packed her things, but now she rounded on him. "¿Por qué estás aquí, Ernesto? ¿Por qué sigues trabajando para él? ¿Es por el dinero? No. ¿Vale la pena tener a una mujer, una familia? ¿Vale la pena tener que aguantar a ese cerdo pervertido? ¿Por qué no haces algo contra él? No quieres ir a la policía, bien. Ve a ver a uno de los otros líderes y diles lo que hace en su casa. Ellos no van a tolerar esa basura. Ellos te ayudarían."

Ernesto closed his eyes. He looked like she hit him in an open wound. "No puedes alejarte de él, ya lo sabes."

"Nos alejamos." She pulled on her jacket and swung her bag to her shoulder, picked up her guitar and glared at him. "Dile que me bese el culo, que es un talle cero y no se está haciendo ni una pulgada más grande. Y si no le gusta, puede besar las credenciales de mi marido." With that she stalked out of there, pushing past Morgan as she did so. "Mind your own business PoPo."

Morgan watched her go, turned back, only to find Ernesto leaving. "Good evening...officer." He said politely, before his boys escorted him out of there.

The only one left was the fiddler. He turned to her, at a loss for what else to do. "What the hell?"

"I have no idea." The old woman replied.

Great.

* * *

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Lyrics from "Wake Me up", by Tim Bergling (Avicii), Aloe Blacc, Aileen Quinn, and Mike Einziger. No copyright infringement intended.
> 
> http://youtu.be/IcrbM1l_BoI
> 
> \------
> 
> Since multiple people have asked for a translation:
> 
> Ernesto sighed. "You know why I'm here, Gabi. He wants you to come home. You and Miguel, both."
> 
> "I am home. This is my home" She replied.
> 
> "No it's not Gabi..."
> 
> She'd been trying to ignore him while she packed her things, but now she rounded on him. "Why are you here Ernesto? Why are you still working for him? Is it the money? Is it worth never having a woman, a family? Is it worth having to put up with that perverted pig? Why don't you do something about him? You don't want to go to the cops, fine. Go to one of the other leaders and tell them what he does in his house. They won't put up with that crap. They would help you.."
> 
> Ernesto closed his eyes. He looked like she hit him in an open wound. "You can't just walk away from him, you know that."
> 
> "We did." She pulled on her jacket and swung her bag to her shoulder, picked up her guitar and glared at him. "Tell him he can kiss my size zero ass because it's never getting one inch bigger. And if he doesn't like that he can kiss my husband's badge." With that she stalked out of there, pushing past Morgan as she did so. "Mind your own business PoPo."


	12. Chapter 12

**Chapter 12**

**January 2002**

Life was good now. Life had been good for so long. Even with the effort keeping up their countermeasures placed upon their bodies and their relationship life was sweet. He had his next degree now, could have any job he wanted at any time. And she had her degree in hand, could do anything she wanted but after winning a contest at the University she’d found a new field to explore. One that she loved. One that was re-building the self-confidence she had left in the desert so long ago.

They had their work, they had their future and if they no longer came together in the night to build the fire between them but rather to huddle against the cold that was acceptable for now. He had to hold to the faith that when they were free of the nightmare that part of their life could be repaired along with their damaged bodies.

But then the latest wife moved on. “She OD’d.” He said as she walked down the steps of the empty lecture hall.

“You would think he would have learned how to find sturdier women to abuse by now.” She said. “I assume the engineering department got a delivery this morning?”

“Oh yeah.” He said. “Where were you?”

“I was over in the jam room, helping the Undergrads prep for Open Mic night.” She nodded. “They appreciated it deeply.” For a long moment she rested in his arms. “He had pictures taken of me at the last show.”

Damn. That wasn’t fair, she was finally finding herself and now this. “What did he say?”

“The usual. El hueso es para el perro, la carne es para el hombre.”

Bones are for the dog, meat is for the man. He smiled at that. “Arf.”

She smiled before she groaned. “What the hell are we going to do? I am out of ideas! He just won’t forget us!”

“I know.” He took a deep breath. “I have an idea. How do you feel about moving to Washington DC?”

She shrugged. “I don’t care where we live, although snow might be difficult right now.”

“We’ll find warm places for you to hang out during the day.”

“Do you really think just moving is going to be enough?”

“No. I met someone today, he’s trying to recruit me to work for the FBI.”

Her eyes widened at that. “That ought to piss him off.”

He nodded. “If I take the job it might convince him to leave us alone. But...” He took a deep breath. “If they find out who we really are, who you really are, there’s no way I’ll get it.”

She shrugged. “So we don’t tell them. Our paperwork holds up. There’s no way they can trace us electronically. If need be I’ll avoid them so they don’t get suspicious.” She leaned against a desk and looked at him. “Who am I avoiding?”

“His name is Jason Gideon.”


	13. Chapter 13

**Chapter 13**  
  
October 2003

He should have known.

He knew the enemy was powerful, was capable of feats of devilry. But he had not expected this.

He should have expected this.

Spencer Reid stood just inside the door of the BAU and felt his world fall down around him.

“I don’t know who sent them.” He heard Garcia say.

“Oh we do not need this kind of thing.” Morgan replied. “Not with Hotch and Gideon on vacation. How many?”

“Sixty.” She said, “With about a dozen of whatever in each box. That makes 720 pieces sent to the BAU with no indication who they came from.”

He felt Elle stepping around him. “What the hell?”

“Something weird,” Morgan said.

“Sixty dozen of everything they make for breakfast at La Caprice,” Garcia said. “I recognize their Pain au chocolat.”

“Get them on the phone baby girl. See who sent them.” Morgan said.

“Will do.” She turned but didn’t go anywhere. “Reid, why are you pale?”

He knew why this happened. He was trying to make him break his control, trying to make him slip up where he could see, and enjoy the sight. But that wasn’t going to happen; he was not going to lose the war, not even the battle. For a moment he caught sight of the rain outside, and pictured a cozy spot and rich tea and that box of scones over there and his head swam. But he took a deep breath and moved to put his bag down at his desk.

“Reid?” Elle asked.

He put his cell phone on his desk, lined up neat and square, before pulling his favorite mug from the depths of his backpack. The big, hand thrown one in the colors of the desert. He very deliberately walked past the pile of goodies to the coffee and filled it. Black.

“Spence, what’s going on?” JJ asked

He walked to the center of the room and took a long drink of the coffee, while looking straight at the box. A moment later, right on cue, his phone started to ring. He sighed. This could not be happening.

A moment later his cell phone started. This was happening.

“Reid.” Morgan said, only concern in his voice. “Talk to us man.”

This was happening. This was happening and there was literally nothing he could do to offset it this time. He was entirely out of ideas. “Garcia.” His voice was too shallow. He cleared his throat and started again. “Would you check the security system, please, I believe it’s been compromised. And also my phone and another number.” He rattled the number off for her.

“Oh now it’s serious.” Elle said.

What the hell were they going to do? Throw themselves on the mercy of the FBI and beg for help. It was the only option he had left. “It’s not entirely my story to tell.”

“Your wife?” Morgan asked. Reid nodded. “Use my phone as soon as Garcia signals her line clear; tell her Anderson is coming to pick her up.”

He nodded and went for Morgan’s phone. “Don’t answer.” He said, nodding at his ringing phones.  “He’s been stalking us for years. It’s better not to engage.”

“Stalker?” Elle said as she slid a hip on to her desk to watch him. “It is better not to engage. Why didn’t you say anything before?”

“He just re-activated. This is the first contact since January of ‘02.” He gestured to the pink boxes that covered every available surface. “This is his calling card.”

“Almost two years.” Elle nodded. “I can see thinking it was behind you.”

“That number is clear.” Garcia said as she stuck her head back in. “I’m checking the systems now.”

Spencer dialed the so familiar number. At the crisp “Hey” at the other end he replied, “Está de vuelta.” He said. “Acabo de recibir una entrega. Necesitamos que decirles todo. ¿Se puede salir de manera segura?”

“He’s back.” Elle translated as soon as he got off the phone. “I just got a delivery. We need to tell them everything. Can you come out safely? And you have the worst Anglo accent; do you have any idea how to roll your r’s?”

Reid winced. “Not really. She’s on her way. VRE.”

She patted him on the back. “You are only a genius in English, good to know.”

Morgan nodded. VRE. She was taking the train up. “Anderson.” He called to the other agent. “Go meet Mrs. Reid...”

“Doctor Reid.” Reid corrected him. “She has a degree in Mathematics.”

“...Dr. Reid at the station.”   Morgan turned to the rest of them. “We’ll work in the conference room as soon as Garcia clears it for us.”

“In the meantime why don’t we send what no one is going to eat over to Organized Crime.” Spencer said. “We might need their help for this one.”

“Oh this is just getting better.” Morgan said. Just then they heard an inarticulate screech from the computer room. “That can’t be good.”

A moment later Garcia stormed back in. “Okay, the conference room is clean if you close the blinds, the rest is not, I have a team coming up to do a bug check and I am going to go find whoever dared invade my system and make his online life a living hell!!”

Morgan looked at Spencer. “Do we have a name?”

Spencer took a deep breath. “Let’s wait for my wife to get here.”

“Fair enough.”


	14. Chapter 14

**Chapter 14**

**October 2003**

"The first rule of dealing with a stalker is to never give him what he wants. " Elle said as they finally settled in the conference room. "Do you have any idea what he wants?"

"To watch me enjoying his gift." Spencer said. That was a safe way to put it. "Which is why I don't intend to."

"Anything else?"

"His end game is for my wife and I to return to Vegas. Barring that to get pictures or video of us together, preferably in, um, certain situations."

"Which we can guess." JJ said.

"Okay, I cannot find you." Garcia said, as she came in and settled her laptop on the table. "According to this you did not exist before you got married and entered the grad program at CalTech, even though they say they gave you your undergraduate degree."

"Next rule of dealing with a stalker," Elle said. "Change your name and erase your paper trail. Nicely done if Garcia can't find you."

"You just didn't run far enough." JJ said.

"My badge didn't dissuade him." Reid said. "I'm not sure far enough exists."

"Nope, don't even think that. No giving up." Garcia said. "So who did you used to be?"

Reid sighed hard again. "Michael Chadwick. I was born October 9, 1981 in Las Vegas, Nevada."

Garcia typed it in and smiled. "And there you are. Enrolled in the CalTech distance learning program when you were thirteen, before that Las Vegas high, before that all the usual taking into account being genius. Your father William Chadwick is a lawyer, it looks like he and your mother Diana split up when you were seven, which is sad. Nothing special about him other than a very sick cat. It looks like...did she go into a nursing home when you were fourteen?"

Reid nodded. "I'd rather not get into why, it's her business..."

"We can skip that." Morgan said.

"But yeah. After that I went to live with her sister Margaret."

"Who died five months later. Aww" Garcia said. "But...wait...according to this Margaret had Diana declared incompetent when you were fourteen..."

"It was medically necessary." Reid said. "There was no foul play involved there."

"...and yet she signed the permission for you to marry at sixteen."

They watched Reid's face go very guilty. Elle reached over and smacked his arm. "Reid! You naughty boy!"

"You forged it, didn't you?" JJ asked. "You eloped!"

"It was a misdemeanor." Reid admitted. "The statue of limitations ran out years ago."

By now they were all laughing at him. "It's all right." Morgan said. "If that's the only bad thing you ever did..."

"It is, I swear!"

"...then it's a hell of a lot better than my juvie record." He turned to Garcia. "Do not look."

"I won't. Promise." Garcia kept looking. "Okay, no offence sweetie, but you have the cleanest background in the BAU. I can't see any reason for anyone to stalk you."

Before Reid could answer the intercom went off. "Um, Agent Morgan?" Anderson said. "I picked up someone claiming to be Dr. Reid, but I don't know..."

"I'll come." Morgan said. He motioned for Reid to sit back down. "Stay. I'll go, just in case."

"All right."

They waited as Morgan got up and headed out onto the cat walk. And they watched as he froze in place. "No!" He said loudly.

And then Spencer heard that familiar voice, rich as cream, gentle as a kitten. "Hey smooth talker."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just to clarify the cannon changes here, in this version Diana was put in Bennington by her sister when Spencer was 14 instead of him having to send her there when he was 18. I also chose a distance learning program for CalTech since no one has ever made it clear how a 13 year old went off to college.


	15. Chapter 15

**Chapter 15**

**October 2003**

“No.” Morgan said. “No. No way. Uh uh. Not a chance. No.”

“What?” Elle said as they all came out to see what was going on.

Morgan looked over at Reid and pointed to the woman with the guitar. “That is too much car for you.”

While Reid looked befuddled Lucero started laughing. “I’m going to take that as a compliment.” She walked up the stairs to join the group and offered her hand to Elle. “Lucero Reid.”

“Elle Greenaway.” Introductions went around. “Um, I take it you know why we called.”

“Oh yeah.” Lucero gestured to the pile of boxes that were just being taken away. “I was down at the tavern for rehearsal, he sent twenty boxes. Harry’s trying to resell them, to balance the cost of pulling the bugs out.”

“That’s where I remember you from.” JJ said. “Harry Dietl’s Tavern. Lucy and the Rockets. That was a great show.”

“Thank you.”

Spencer frowned. Lucero had been telling him about this guy she kept running in to. “You’re the cop who’s been flirting with my wife?” He said to Morgan.

“Morgan!” Elle said, giving him a solid swat on the arm.

“I didn’t know!” Morgan protested. “I swear to god I didn’t know!”

Lucero just laughed as she twined an arm around Reid’s waist. “Oh, it’s all right, he’s always been a gentleman.”

“So how did you two meet?” JJ asked as they went back in to the conference room.

“Technically we’re cousins.” Lucero said. “His mother’s sister is my father’s brother’s...seventh wife.”

“Eighth wife,” Reid said.

“That’s a lot of wives.” Elle said. “Aunt Margaret?” She asked.

Lucero nodded. “He’s up in the double digits now. His wives have a habit of dying on him.”

“And no one’s noticed?” Morgan asked.

“As part of his abuse pattern he gets them hooked on drugs.” Spencer said. “They end up dying of heart attacks, strokes, overdoses, but nothing that can be directly tied to his behavior. And he has very good lawyers.”

Lucero sighed. “I’m from Hermosillo, Mexico. I didn’t even know my uncle growing up; my father wanted nothing to do with him. Papa was a banker, Mama used to join him for lunch two or three times a week. One day she walked in on a robbery. They didn’t come home.”

“My parents died young too sweetie.” Garcia said, reaching over to rub her arm. “We can talk.”

Lucero nodded and gave her a grateful smile. “My uncle was the only relative I had left. I ended up immigrating to live with him. When I tested out of high school Margaret got me in to the CalTech program. She was really sweet, tried so hard to help even though by then she was sick from what he was doing to her she needed a wheelchair.”

“She helped me enroll as well.” Spencer said. “Mom wasn’t up to sorting out programs after I graduated high school. When Mom took a turn for the worse and had to be hospitalized I went to live with Aunt Margaret, the only relative I had left. And um...” He looked over at his wife with love in his eyes.

“And one thing led to another.” JJ said. “You two are pretty much high school sweethearts.”

“Aww.” Elle cooed. “But how did you end up with a stalker?”

“It’s my uncle.” Lucero said. “One night after Aunt Margaret died he caught us....errr....” As the team watched they both started turning red.

And the team started laughing. “We can guess.” Morgan said. “Put two smart teen-agers together in the same house and what do you expect.”

“Worse.” Spencer said, his eyes alight with humor. “He has a pool. Bikini. Ow!” He jumped as his wife elbowed him.

“Oh please, I was such a late bloomer it barely mattered.” Lucero said. “But it got pretty bad after that.”

“We were trying to get out of there as quickly as we could.” Spencer said. “We had scholarships to CalTech and at sixteen we’d be able to move into the dorms. He refused to sign the paperwork.”

“But as a married couple you two would be listed as independent.” Elle said. “And you wouldn’t need his signature.”

“And his secretary was a notary.” Spencer finished. “So we forged the permission to marry forms, borrowed the stamp to make them official and got married in the next county over.”

“Like most universities these days CalTech takes stalking seriously.” Lucero said. “When we told them what was going on some of the other students unofficially helped us make new identities. We thought we were finally free of him. But when his next wife died he went looking for the targets who got away.”

“That’s his pattern.” Spencer said. “When his latest wife dies he activates on us again. It usually lasts six weeks to three months, until someone new catches his attention. Then he focuses on her and leaves us alone.”

“And nothing you have done has managed to dissuade him?” JJ asked.

For a moment they both looked hopeless. “He just came after an FBI agent.” Spencer said. “I don’t know what else to do.”

“Okay sweetie, I am looking for anyone named Lucero who immigrated from Hermosillo as a minor about the time you did. They buried you good. What name were you born with?” Garcia asked.

Spencer sighed. He was the point where he sank or swam. “Here’s the part where I get fired.”

“No one’s going to fire you.” Morgan said. “A stalker is serious business, especially for an agent.”

Lucero took a deep breath. “Gabriella Salazar. De Larraechea if it matters.”

“There you are!” Garcia said with a smile. “Yep, clean immigration record, clean background, CalTech program, parents died in the robbery, adopted by your uncle....Eduardo Salazar...” All of a sudden Garcia’s eyes went wide. “And do we have a file on him.”

Uh oh. Everyone in the room turned to look at her except Reid and Lucero. “What is it?” Elle asked before getting up to read over her shoulder.

“It looks like he’s a member of the Sonora Cartel.”

“More than a member,” Elle said as she read. “It looks like he heads up operations for Arizona and Nevada.” She looked up at Spencer. “And you eloped with his niece!?”

“It’s always the quiet ones.” JJ said.

Morgan groaned. No way this could be good.


	16. Chapter 16

**Chapter 15**

**October 2003**

“The Sonora Cartel.” Elle said, reading over Garcia’s shoulder. “That would be drug trafficking, arms trafficking, human trafficking, money laundering, extortion, and of course murder. We suspect him of being involved in everything but have yet to have enough proof to take him down. Damn.”

“That case in LA.” Morgan said. “He was calling you out.”

Spencer considered this, had considered this. It was true; he had recognized the message as soon as he saw the crime scene. It was set for him. “Well, he did order some dealers who were cheating him killed. And we did get the killer.”

“Yeah, but the way it was set up was designed to get us out there I bet.” Elle said. “He wanted to confirm you were with the unit. That’s why those guys Morgan told us about were there. And you read that message loud and clear, that’s why you were acting weird on the trip back.”

Spencer opened his mouth to say something, but gave up and just nodded.

“And you.” Morgan turned to Lucero. “Those were his guys in the club the other night.”

It was her turn to sigh and nod. “Ernesto Villegas is his chief lieutenant. I thought he wouldn’t go any further, not with Spence in the FBI.”

“Spence, you should have disclosed this.” JJ said.

“I thought it was over!” He replied

“No, you _hoped_ it was over.” Elle said. She looked over at Morgan. “We can’t keep this from the Chief.”

Morgan groaned. “No, but I’d rather bring it with a solution. You, stay here.” He said to Spencer. “You, watch him.” He said to JJ.   “Come on Elle, we’re going to go talk to Organized Crime.”

Spencer looked over at Lucero and took her hand. They had friends to help them now, who wanted to help them now. Maybe, just maybe, he was feeling the thinnest thread of hope.

 

* * *

 

Morgan got up and started walking for the elevators. But he didn’t have to go far, the guys he wanted to talk to were coming out as he hit the lobby. “Peterson, Furnelli. We were just coming down to find you.”

“You send doughnuts. You ask us to bug sweep your offices. Now you’re looking into Eduardo Salazar’s file.” Furnelli said. “When the BAU starts looking into our stuff we get worried. I mean, you people deal in crazy.”

“You hear of a gringo kid who lived with Salazar a while back?” Elle asked.

The two men considered it. “Yeah.” Peterson opened the file he was carrying and checked notes. “They call him Miguel; related to one of his many wives. Salazar has a boner for him, kid ran off with his niece Gabi about five years back. For some reason he won’t let it go.”

“Why didn’t he go after them?” Morgan asked.

“They were going to school in LA last anyone heard of them. That’s Tijuana Cartel territory; Salazar couldn’t make a move there without starting a war. Back in March of last year he dropped off the old man’s radar. You know where he went?”

Morgan nodded, “To the Academy.”

The other agent’s jaws dropped, “Our Academy? He’s a Fed?”

“He joined our unit back in January. Gideon brought him in.”

“First he takes his niece, now this? That kid has a cast iron set. Where is he now?”

Morgan pointed to the conference room, “Both of them.”

“The niece too? Son of a bitch.” Furnelli said. “Please tell me you’re gonna share.”

“As long as you help me spin this into a resource when we go tell the Chief. He didn’t disclose.”  

“Can’t say I blame him. We can make that happen.”

“What’s it going to take to get them a safe house until this is settled?” Elle asked.

“Give us a profile on Salazar.” Furnelli replied. “He’s crazy but not crazy enough to make it to the top of your to-do pile.”

“Done,” Morgan said. “Give us what you got.”

“I’ll have the boxes sent up.” Peterson replied. “We were going to send someone out to interview his latest wife this afternoon. Take our plane.”

“She’s not dead?” Elle asked.

“Not this time but not by much. She’s in Renaissance Hospital out in Houston. She filed for divorce two weeks ago.”

“And that would be the trigger.” Elle nodded.

They filed into the conference room where Spencer stood to meet them. “SSA Joe Furnelli, SSA Don Peterson, SSA Dr. Spencer Reid, Dr. Lucero Reid.” Morgan said by way of introductions. “Known in a former life as Michael “Miguel” Chadwick and Gabriella Salazar.” He turned to Spencer. “You gonna have any problem helping to put your uncle away.”

He was gratified to see Spencer’s cheekbones sharpen, “None.”

“Can I help?” Lucero asked.

“We’d love to have you.” Peterson replied.

“Good. As penance you’re theirs until they’re done squeezing intel out of that head of yours.” Morgan said. “Then you get to help with the profile.” As he watched, Spencer and is wife looked at each other with fear in their eyes. Uh oh, there was more coming. He looked at Elle, JJ and Garcia. “You three stick with Lucero, we’re going to go tell the Chief how we’re solving a case for him.”

“You’re going into a safe house tonight.” Peterson said. “If you need to go home for anything...”

“We’ll handle it.” Elle said.

“All right, come on pretty boy.” The four of them trooped off, leaving four behind.

* * *

 

“Do we need to go back to your apartment for anything?” Elle asked Lucero when the others were gone.

“No.” She replied. “We’ve found the best way to limit engagement is to be able to abandon wherever we’re living and go mobile when he’s active. So we keep everything valuable that we can’t carry in a storage unit. Even the laundry hamper. We should stop there on the way to wherever we’re going tonight though, if nothing else I want to get my other guitar.”

“So when he goes active you two go homeless?” Garcia asked.

Lucero nodded. “Makes it harder for him to get the pictures he wants.”

“Hard on you guys though.” JJ said.

Lucero shrugged. “You get used to it.”

“Okay, I want to ask you.” Garcia set her laptop aside and turned to Lucero. “Didn’t you play with The Pimentos for a while?”

JJ and Elle laughed. “The Pimentos?” Elle asked.

“Yeah,” Garcia replied. “CalTech has a huge collection of olive trees, every fall they have a big harvest festival and they make olive oil to sell to support student services. So they called the grad student band The Pimentos.”

Bu now Lucero was at least smiling. “They had an audition for a new singer a few years back.” She said. “You had to come up with a song to perform based on a literary work. I always channeled everything into music, writing, playing, so I decided to try. Mine was based on The Hobbit. And I won.”

“The Hobbit?” Garcia asked. “That’s geeky even for me.”

In reply Lucero picked up her guitar. “It actually came out pretty good. I still perform it from time to time.”

_Oh, misty eye of the mountain below_   
_Keep careful watch of my brothers' souls_   
_And should the sky be filled with fire and smoke_   
_Keep watching over Durin's sons_

_If this is to end in fire_   
_Then we should all burn together_   
_Watch the flames climb high into the night_   
  
_Calling out father oh_   
_Stand by and we will_   
_Watch the flames burn auburn on_   
_The mountain side_

She held them captivated for the entire song. “So after I won we started performing some of my stuff.” She said after the last notes died. “We got pretty popular in some of the clubs around there. After we moved here I went looking for work or a new band or something and ended up at an open mic night at the tavern. Next thing you know Lucy and The Rockets are a going thing.”

“So you’re not trying to be famous?” Elle asked.

Lucero shrugged. “Not really.” She replied. “Spencer’s mama is covered by what his aunt left, we don’t need much, he makes enough and loves his work. We’re happy. Well, other than this.”

“We can fix this.”

“I hope so.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Lyrics from “I See Fire.” By Ed Sheeran. No copyright infringement intended
> 
> http://youtu.be/mllXxyHTzfg


	17. Chapter 17

**Chapter 17**

**October 2003**

Thankfully the Chief did not decide to fire Spencer. He ranted and raved for a solid hour, but Spencer’s willingness to do whatever it took to bring his uncle to justice balanced out the mistake made. After that, while Spencer and Lucero headed over to the Organized Crime unit and the boxes on Salazar started coming up. “Eduardo Salazar, AKA Monje Loco, the Mad Abbot.” JJ said, reading off the file.   “I wonder why they call him that.”

“According to the files on his known associates none of them have any women in their lives.” Elle said. “Even the ones who join his organization married get divorced soon after. He’s the abbot overseeing all the chaste brothers. But no one has figured out why.”

“Maybe that’s why he has a thing for Reid.” Morgan said, “Caught him with his niece, that doesn’t read chaste to me.”

“Maybe,” Elle said. “They have his professional life all mapped out. What do they know about the personal side?”

“Other than that he goes through wives?” JJ said. “He’s had an even dozen now, all deceased except the last one.”

“How did they die?” Morgan asked, “Any kind of pattern?”

JJ shook her head. “Heart attack, stroke, heart attack, suicide, OD, suicide, this one died of complications due to pneumonia. Nothing that looks like foul play.”

“Could all be drug connected,” Morgan said. “If he was the one hooking them up it could be manslaughter at least.”

“Yeah, but you’d have to prove he was the one giving it to them.” Elle said. “We’re missing something. What’s his medical condition like?”

Morgan had that box. He went digging through the file. “Hyperthyroid syndrome,” he said. He held up a picture of a tall, rail thin man in an expensive suit. “Sure they aren’t genetically related?”

Elle chuckled as she took the picture. “Is he having it treated? You can’t tell from looking at him, he looks like a model.”

“According to what they have here and what I could find in his records, no, he’s refusing treatment.” Garcia said. “His doctor noted that he said it was a lost cause, if his mother couldn’t get weight on him there was no way the doctor could. He only needed his mind to work.”

“Mind,” JJ said. “Doesn’t genius run in families?”

“Lucero has to be up in Reid’s class if they were in school together.” Morgan said. “What about the brother?”

Elle flipped through the file. “You mean Dr. Jorge Salazar, dual PhD in International Finance and Economics from Harvard? I would say yes. Huh.” She frowned at something.

“What?” Morgan asked.

“Compare these two pictures.” Elle put them on the table. “One was from Jorge’s freshman year at college, the other the last known of him.”

“Whoa.” JJ said. “He shed, what, two hundred pounds there?”

“Yeah, but he looks healthy at the end.” Morgan said. “So he got big while his brother grew up skinny as a rail.”

“Yeah,” Elle was still thinking of something. “Check out the pictures of his associates and his men.” She started putting them up on the board.

“Looks like an NFL lineup.” Morgan said. “He has a thing for big boys. You know, he’s all brains no brawn, maybe he keeps them around to make him feel safer. Only a big boy is strong enough to look out for him.”

“They had a guy in undercover for a while.” JJ said.   “He made a note of the big breakfasts and dinners Salazar insisted his men attend. He made sure all his people were big. Maybe he encouraged his brother to get that way. The bigger the safer. Until Jorge got out from under his brother’s shadow and decided to go healthy.”

“Yeah,” Elle said. She said it like she was thinking of something. “Let’s go talk to his wife.”

* * *

 

That afternoon Elle and Morgan flew to Houston. “Don’t plan on staying too long.” The Doctor warned as they headed up to the unit. “Her heart is very fragile right now.”

“What are her chances?” Morgan asked.

He shrugged. “Not good. We have a lot of work to do. Here.” He stopped at the nurse’s station and handed them a bottle of peppermint oil. “Rub some under your nose, it helps with the smell.”

“I know you can’t give us details of her condition.” Elle said. “But we suspect Mrs. Salazar’s husband’s behavior has led to the death of more than one woman. It might help our case if you can tell us in general what’s wrong with her.”

The doctor stood outside the door and took a deep breath, “Everything.”

He went in and told Mrs. Salazar they were here, and did something or other with the nurse. Even as he opened the door they caught the first whiff of the smell through the sharp oil, decomp and fecal material and blood. But it wasn’t until they stepped in and caught it full on as well as the sight of the woman before them that they realized the extent of the problem.

She was _huge_.

The bed was triple the size of a normal hospital bed, at a minimum, and she seemed to be spilling over. Just wave after wave of flesh covered in sheets, making it almost impossible to see where an arm ended or a leg began. But at the top of it all was this normal sized head, revealing a woman who was slowly starting to cry. “I’m...I’m sorry but...how much...?” Elle asked.

“Eight hundred and seventy five pounds.” The Doctor said.

“I wasn’t like this!” Maria Salazar cried. “I wasn’t like this when I married him! I was a little big but I wasn’t like this.”

“What happened?” Elle asked gently.

“I don’t know!” She wailed. “He likes the people around him big, you know. He spotted my girlfriend Gina and I at the casino and invited us up to party. We got to come back all the time. He’s so beautiful and so strong, everyone respects him. I wanted him, everyone wanted him. One day after his wife died he was ranting about his kids or something, how they were bad kids, didn’t treat him right, didn’t give him no respect, so I offered sympathy, you know? Caught his attention. Next thing you know he wants to marry me. I wasn’t gonna say no. I don’t remember a lot of what happened after we got home. He kept getting me high all the time. I’d lose whole days. Weeks. One day I woke up and I’m so big I can’t get out of bed.”

“When she came in she had high doses of benzodiazepines in her system.” The Doctor said. “From the esophageal damage we think he was force feeding her.”

“When Eduardo went down to Hermosillo I called my brother, he came and got me here. He had to go into hiding.” Maria shook her head as the tears rolled down her cheeks. “I don’t know what I’m going to do now! He kept saying he loved me, he was doing this because he loved me!”

“Just get better.” Elle said, as she lightly patted one swollen hand. “Thank you. We’ll call if we need anything more.”

When they got to the lobby Morgan looked over at Elle. “What are you thinking?”

“I think I know what he was doing to Spencer and Lucero to make them leave.” She said. “I just need to check something.” She pulled out her phone. “Hey Garcia, I need some more intel.”

“Your wish is my command,” said the familiar voice from over the phone.

“Can you find out what doctors Reid and Lucero saw while they were living in Salazar’s house and get their records? Maybe send someone from the Vegas field office if you have to?”

“Um, sure. I think I’ll have to have them sign something first but I ought to be able to. At twenty-one they should still have the records on file.”

“Great, thanks.”

“What are you doing?” Morgan asked after Elle hung up.

“Confirming my theory; I think Salazar is a feeder.”


	18. Chapter 18

**Chapter 17**

**October 2003**

“He’s a what?” Garcia asked.

“He’s a feeder.” Elle said. They were back in the office after a quick turnaround, waiting for the records from Las Vegas to be faxed over. “Feederism is a sexual fetish which involves one partner, the feeder, feeding the other, both to obtain sexual arousal and to encourage weight gain in the feedee. Feederism can vary in nature, from a consensual act between two people who mutually appreciate a larger body type, to non-consensual abuse, which may involve force-feeding and bondage and is undertaken with the intention of fattening up the feedee to the point of immobility and total dependence. The weight gained can also vary from a few pounds to hundreds.”

“In this case we’re likely looking at the non-consensual abuse type.” Morgan said. “And he’s adding drugs in the mix.”

“Jinkies,” Garcia said. “That must be why his wives keep dying, there’s no way that can be healthy.”

“But why?” JJ said.

“Screwed up lovemap,” Elle said. “Our earliest expressions and observations of love and sexuality set the pattern for what we enjoy for the rest of our lives. He was taught that feeding someone until they’re big is the purest expression of love likely by his mother who was trying to overcome his hyperthyroidism.   Now he feeds the women he loves over and over again, and likely considers their size a visual expression of the love he feels.”

“And he was likely bullied about being scrawny growing up.” Morgan said. “He sees being bigger as an expression of strong manhood. The bigger the better. That’s why he keeps bulking up his guys, he thinks he’s making them better.”

“And that’s why his guys never keep women around.” Elle slowly walked around the room, describing the scene in the way they did when the solution hit one of them so hard they could see it in their minds. “With his intelligence he could manipulate his men into feeling like they also had to feed their women, to prove their love for them. But Salazar would make it sexual, would want to watch. He’d sit him down at his table or in his house and watch him literally feed her as a sexual act.”

“Ew,” JJ murmured.

“Most women would run from that, or in a committed couple the husband might send his wife away so she wouldn’t have to deal with it. Hence the Monje Loco.”

“How does that explain what happened to Spence and Lucero?”

“What, you think he’s going to trust some scrawny gringo kid with his only niece?” Elle was still slowly circling the conference table, seeing it in her mind’s eye. “No, he needs to grow into a big boy before he can be trusted with her. That means he needs to eat and grow strong. Or else he’ll give her hand in marriage over to one of his other men. You’d better sit there and start eating, or else I’ll give her away and you want to know what they’ll do?”

“And while you’re at it feed her.” Morgan could see the same vision now. “Show me how much you really love her.”

“Oh god,” JJ said.

“It was likely even physically painful.” Elle continued. “Everything we have about Reid’s family says white bread suburban. Pot roast and hamburgers and mac and cheese from a box, right? But Sonoran food uses lots of chilies, the hotter the better to make you strong. Morgan, you said he recognized that the tortios left at the site in LA were habanero chiles, not gueros. Those things are dammed hot. ”

“Oh, ouch,” Garcia said. “But if he was stuffing them regularly how is it that they’re both so super super skinny now?”

“That is what we are...” And that was the fax machine. Elle went to look, and started smiling as the papers came off. “Bingo. Ectomorphs.”

“In English?” Garcia asked.

“The idea is that people more or less break down into three body types.” Morgan said. “Endomorphs tend to be round and full, to put it nicely. Mesomorphs are big and muscular. Ectomorphs are tall and stringy. Now most people do tend to average somewhere in the middle, but some land on the extreme ends of the spectrum.”

“So I would be an endomorph, you’re a mesomorph and Reid is an ectomorph.” Garcia said. “And this matters why?”

“Simple.” Elle said. “Feed an ectomorph and they need a lot of exercise not to get fat. Feed a mesomorph and with the slightest exercise they bulk up into muscle, like most of his men. Feed an ectomorph, especially at the right point of development and they just get taller. He wanted Reid to bulk and it looked like he wasn’t. But in those two years Reid went from four foot three to six foot one.” She held up the growth chart his doctor had kept on him.

“It looks like Lucero was right behind; she just kept getting taller as well.” JJ said, looking at the other pile. “She was a late bloomer too, according to her doctor she was maybe three years into puberty when they ran off. He suspected some kind of severe stress. So Salazar feeding them; they don’t look like they’re getting bigger, so he insists on more. Let the battles begin.”

“Only worse. He sexualizes the act of feeding.” Elle picked up a chunk of doughnut and offered it Morgan’s lips. He took it teasingly. “Emotional abuse from the threats he was making, physical abuse from the food, and sexual abuse from dragging them in to his paraphillia. No wonder they ran.”   As they watched Morgan slowed, turned to another pile of notes and started going through them. “What?”

“I bet I know why they’re so skinny now.” He said. “Every time a wife died Salazar triggered to go after them again, right?”

“Yeah,” Elle said. “He lost his distraction with the wife, remembered the kids, looked them up, saw that they weren’t any bigger and started hounding them again. He couldn’t go after them personally or the university would get involved, that would alert the Tijuana Cartel to something going on. But he harassed them hard.”

“And this is sexual for him?”

“Yeah.”

“What happened when the late bloomer finally got with the blooming?”

“Ewwwww!” Garcia said.

“Oh, I do not even want to think about what he would have to say about that.” JJ said.

“Or the threats he would make.” Elle replied. “She’s a woman now; you can’t take care of her like you are, you can’t protect her or meet her needs. Now I have to send one of my boys for her.”

Morgan turned to Garcia. “Baby girl, when they were at CalTech, did Reid and Lucero spend any time in Philadelphia?”

“Ummm, let me look.” She turned to her computer.

“If they did see if you can find any kind of pictures from before and after.”

“What are you thinking?” JJ asked.

“Every time he went after them they changed their behavior to shut him down. He planted cameras in their house...”

“Likely to watch them eat,” Elle said. “Or have sex. Or both.”

“...so they got in the wind to make it harder for him to watch them. He sent his boys onto campus to take pictures of them, trying to catch them in the cafeteria or the quad, so they stopped spending time in public together. Eventually he realized they were getting to the last stage of puberty, so they had to shut that down.”

“How do you shut down puberty?” JJ asked.

Morgan looked away into memory. “I ran into her in the train station a little bit ago. She was singing this song...”

_Ain't no angel gonna greet me._   
_It's just you and I my friend._   
_My clothes don't fit me no more,_   
_I’d walk a thousand miles_   
_Just to slip this skin._   
  
_The night has fallen, I'm lyin' awake,_   
_I can feel myself fading away,_   
_So receive me lover with your faithful kiss,_   
_Or will we leave each other alone like this_

He sang as best he could.

“Found it.” Garcia said. “They spent a summer there while Reid was working on this statistical modeling...you’d have to be Reid to explain it. Anyway, before and after ID pics...wow.”

They looked over her shoulder. The differences were startling. Before they went to Philadelphia they were glowing with good health. After...”You shut down puberty by starving all your body fat off until your system shuts down.” Elle said. “No more breasts, no more hips, no more periods.”

“And no more muscles.” Morgan said. “Reid did it too. She was singing about dying of slow starvation.”

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Lyrics from "Streets of Philadelphia", words and music by Bruce Springsteen. No copyright infringement intended.


	19. Chapter 19

**Chapter 18**

**October 2003**

“Yeah, but we didn’t die,” said a voice from the doorway. They turned and saw Lucero leaning there. To Morgan it felt like he was really seeing her for the first time, without her stage persona on. And what he saw was the girl his friend loved, tired, frail, and very young. “The guys in the other office sent me back here.”

“Yeah, but do you have any idea how dangerous this is?” Garcia switched right over into Mama Bear mode, going and pulling Lucero over to the couch in the corner so she could hold her there. “You could get heart damage, bone damage; your periods could stop...”

“Too late,” Lucero murmured....

“See!”

“It’s better than being dragged back to Sonora to be raped. When I’m like this none of them would have me.”

“That’s not going to happen.” Elle said. “We’re going to protect you guys.”

“May I remind you that my uncle hijacked your security systems so he could use your cameras?”

Elle frowned. “Good point.”

“Besides, we’re being very careful; plenty of electrolytes, not going too far down. We’ve kept this up for quite a while now, we can go longer.”

“Yeah, but what kind of a life is that?” JJ asked.

Lucero shrugged and for a moment looked hopeless. “It’s what we’ve got.” She sighed and looked off into memory. “It wasn’t always bad you know. Aunt Margaret seemed to enjoy what she and Tio Eduardo did together. She was more mobile at first, had one of those little scooters to get around. And she insisted we eat right and stay active, she always said she was a grown up and making her own choices but we were going to be healthy.”

“Reid was active?” Garcia asked.

Lucero smiled at that. “Yeah, he used to go work out with the guys, not that he ever got big. He was always wiry, that type?   And he has this big estate, you know? It was like our private play ground at first, we would swim all the time, ride horses, play tennis. No really, we did.” She insisted when she saw the skeptical faces around her. “Even when we were in college we kept going to the gym. And, you know, parking was a nightmare so we took bikes around most of the time.”

“So why did he get waivers for everything physical at the Academy?” Morgan asked.

“Like she said, this is hard on the heart. He wouldn’t have been able to even try there.”

“So Aunt Margaret was really good for you.” Elle said.

“Yeah,” Lucero nodded. “She got us into the CalTech program, made Tio Eduardo hire a cook and a maid to do what she couldn’t, even toward the end when she was bedridden she insisted we come visit every day. We watched Days of Our Lives.” She chuckled a little at that. “It was good just to have someone, I mean my parents were gone, Spencer’s Mom was in the hospital and couldn’t communicate, she was the adult we needed. Then she was gone too.”

“What did your uncle do?”

“Just then? He told Ernesto to keep doing what Margaret was doing. We only ever saw him in passing. We were pretty isolated then but we had each other. We were okay.”

“Then he caught you?” Morgan asked. “I’m guessing the pool.”

She smiled. “No. He had a movie screening room in the basement, with these big couches instead of chairs. He caught us ummm.....yeah.  He didn’t make a big fuss then but a few days later he said he was cooking us dinner.” She started shaking. “You got it right, you know. How do you do that?”

“Practice,” Elle deadpanned.

“Even that it was spicy. I mean, I grew up with spicy food, Mama was a fantastic cook. But what Tio Eduardo cooked was too hot even for me. Diana had been sick for a long time, before Aunt Margaret got him Spencer was practically living off McDonald’s when he could scrounge enough change. That night he met his first habanero. He ended up so sick he was bleeding when it all came back up. And having to hurt me on top of it, it just...” She was shaking so hard Garcia pulled her in and put her head on her shoulder. “Between that and the threats and we couldn’t eat in-between from being sick we started making plans to get out of there. We figured once we were old enough to go into the dorms we’d just never go back. But then Tio Eduardo refused to sign the papers.”

“So you got out of there.” Morgan nodded.    “And he started stalking you.”

“The first time he got pictures of us making Sunday breakfast. Among other things, I mean we are married, we weren’t doing anything wrong. So we started spending as little time as possible in our apartment so he wouldn’t have a reliable place to put a camera. Then he got someone on campus to follow us around and take pictures, so we started sneaking into empty classrooms to eat. Then one day I was in my own bedroom in my own apartment with my husband and I mentioned that I finally needed to get fitted for a bra. Tio Eduardo sent me one.” She shuddered hard.

“Ewww.” JJ said.

“The threats got a hundred times worse after that. We couldn’t stop him, we tried the police but without an active crime there was little they could do and we knew that it was only a matter of time before, one way or another, the Tijuana Cartel let him into LA. The only behavior we could control was our own. So we did this.” She looked bleak. “It was so hard. It still is. I am dreading another winter here. But I don’t know what to do, Spencer turned himself into Tio Eduardo’s ultimate enemy and he still won’t leave us alone!”

“Even with this nothing has changed?” Elle asked.

She handed Elle her phone so she could see the number of voicemails waiting. “Now he’s mad at us instead of turned on. He says things like we’re shaming him by making him look like a bad provider, we’re ruining our bodies, I’m not going to be able to give his brother grandchildren, and Spencer can’t take care of me. He sends food to tempt us so he can watch and get turned on. He still puts cameras everywhere to try to get pictures of us eating; it’s like porn to him! That’s just...” She shook again.

“It’s like porn?” Garcia asked, “Really?”

Lucero took a deep breath, “Yeah. He always wears very thin, tailored pants. You could tell when he was...happy”

“Oh ew! Ew ew ew ew!”

“Yeah. Therapy is on the wish list.”

“What else is on the wish list?’ Morgan asked

“A house,” she said, “With a big kitchen. And two cats. And some cooking classes. I want Spencer to be able to come home to someplace warm and safe and have a nice dinner with the American food he loves. Hell, I want that for myself.” She sagged against Garcia again. “Right now it seems like the only thing that’s working is this job for him and my music.”

“It’s all going to get better now.” Elle said. “We’re going to help you.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah little sis.” Morgan said. “You two aren’t alone anymore.”


	20. Chapter 20

**Chapter 19**

**October 2003**

“I didn’t want her to tell everyone.” Spencer said.

He and Morgan were heading over to the storage unit with an escort from Organized Crime. Elle and Lucero were heading to Wal-Mart with a similar escort to replace what they might need from the apartment. Furnelli was taking a team over to the apartment to see if they could do anything interesting with the bugs and cameras that were likely already there. Peterson and a couple of his guys had gone ahead to the safe house to open it up. And JJ and Garcia had gone off on some mysterious errand. Now Morgan looked over at him. “I get it.”

Spencer sighed. It was embarrassing is what it was. It wasn’t rape, not technically, but once they realized just how Eduardo was being affected it had crossed the line from abuse to sexual assault. He still remembered the anger and humiliation as he had to sit there and feed her, literally by hand, the toritos and bits of carne asada and spoonfuls of spicy hot cheese soup as her uncle purred in the background, expressing his pleasure with his hands down his pants while they both sat there in pain, trying to keep each other strong until it ended. He could still remember lying on the floor of the bathroom after, just wanting the pain to stop as she gently wiped the blood from his face, still shaking from her own sickness. He remembered how she couldn’t sing for days from the swelling in her throat, how they had to write notes to communicate. And he still remembered every detailed threat her uncle made, and how his men looked at Lucero, and how he slept in the hallway in front of her room night after night in the hope of keeping her safe. In the end he knew it was irrational, but he still felt culpable somehow, like he had somehow been responsible, all because one night he was curious about sex and his best friend happened to be a girl. “It just...”

“Reid.” Morgan glanced over at him. “I _get_ it.”

Something in Morgan’s tone snapped him out of the general funk of his thoughts. Oh. _Oh_. “Do you want...”

“No. We are dealing with your problems now.” They kept driving for a while. “Garcia’s concerned that you two might be developing an actual eating disorder.”

“We’re not. At least I know I’m not, 98% certain she’s not.”

“How do you know?”

“The three major signs of anorexia nervosa are extreme weight loss, distorted body image and fear of weight gain. Essentially the patient is losing a great deal of weight while thinking they’re fat and being afraid of gaining. I know I look like crap and I’d love to start getting healthy. Turn at the third light.”

“So why don’t you?”

“We wanted to wait for him to be triggered after I joined the FBI; to see if that solved the problem.” He managed a humorless smile. “I guess we have our answer.”

“Yeah, you do. The FBI has your back so you can start working on getting healthy and not worrying about him.” Morgan said firmly.

Would that it was that simple. “I just don’t...”

“You just do, all right? You work on getting you and that wife of yours healthy, we’ll work on Salazar.”

Spencer sighed again. “We’ll see.” He was still afraid, he wasn’t certain he was ready to take that risk. They drove for a while before something escaped his mental filter. “I want my life back.”

“What do you mean?”

“I mean I’ve been sneaking around with my own wife for years now, hiding in the shadows like...like we’re trying to avoid a jealous husband or something. We’ve lived here for a year and a half and we have yet to really get to see any part of the city. I want to be able to take her to dinner and a movie even and not have to worry about coming home to some salacious story about how sensual we looked. I want to be able to cook her breakfast without some detailed threat of what’s going to happen if I don’t turn into a linebacker overnight. I want...” No, he wasn’t going to say that. But that was what he wanted, he wanted to enjoy life with his best friend at his side. Happy.

“Given the known side effects of severe weight loss I’m guessing what you want.”

He chuckled without humor. “More like want to want at this point.” Yeah, his sex drive, which ought to be peaking at his age, was numb.   “This is just unnatural.”

“How long?”

“Two years, three months, nine days...”

“You do not need to tell me to the minute.   You’re right, that is unnatural.”

They were quiet a little while more, then Spencer spoke again, got a little deeper into what was bothering him. “I want to clear those waivers off my file. I want you all to be able to trust me and I know you can’t right now.”

It was Morgan’s turn to smile. “You’ll get there.” They pulled into the lot and stopped. “We’re going to get enough for a few days, yeah?”

“Maybe, not more than we can carry just in case.” That had been the rule, no going back for stuff so don’t leave stuff where you might have to go back for it. No temptations, if you have to run you run.

“I’m telling you, we’ve got your back.”

“We’ve been like this for almost four years.  When we can actually settle down....”

“Right.” They got out of the car and Spencer shuddered. He pulled his overcoat closer around him and fumbled in his pockets for his gloves. “Are you that cold?” Morgan asked.

“No body fat.” Spencer replied. “One of the symptoms we haven’t been able to counteract.” Couldn’t he feel the bite of the wind? The steady, seeping chill under it? “Compounded by growing up in a desert and then going to college in Southern California. I thought winter would be fun.” Eidetic memory didn’t extend to that sense, he could barely remember being naturally warm.

“It will be. Come on.”

The nice thing about this storage space was the onsite security 24/7. Still, Spencer brought a bug detecting device and used it all the way into the unit. Thankfully it didn’t go off. He opened the door and turned on the light. “This won’t take long.” He said.

“Whoa.” Morgan said as he looked around.

The space was a large rectangle. They had lined it with industrial shelving, adding another row of shelves down the middle. This was where they stored the detritus of their lives. Spencer pulled a list from his pocket, fetched a duffle bag from Row B/Stack 6/Shelf 3, came back around to Row D/Stack 3 where Lucero kept her clothing and started filling it with the items she had requested. “Should I be embarrassed or complimented by that,”

“Complimented. We’re what, a block from the Metro here?”

“Yes, and on three bus lines.”

“So you take the VRE to Union Station, Metro or a bus or maybe a cab here, rotate what you need for the next 24 hours, and then metro, bus or cab home.”

“Or drive. I have my truck stored in the lot here.”

Morgan nodded. “It’s a sweet system. If you ever have to run what are you leaving behind?”

“An air mattress, two milk crates, two lamps, a space heater, assorted inexpensive toiletries and linens and an electric kettle. Maybe two hundred dollars all together to replace.” Spencer tossed the now full duffel bag out to Morgan and went back to Row B/Stack 6/Shelf 4 for one of the bags he used as a go bag. “They said the safe house has a bed, linens and lamps, Lucero is at Wal-mart replacing the rest of it. Likely an electric blanket for the space heater though.” That way they wouldn’t drive everyone nuts with the heat they needed to sleep. He went to Row A/Stack 3, which was a hanging wardrobe unit where he kept his work clothes and started filling the bag.   Row A/Stack 4 included a work table where he could properly fold things so they wouldn’t wrinkle with the rest of his clothes stored above and below.

“And that’s it.”

“Yep. We keep mugs with us, I have an AeroPress in my bag here for when I don’t buy coffee, and she prefers tea. We buy what food we eat ready-made, stuff that can go down quickly. When we need to we take our laundry to a place near Union Station.” The hampers were in Row B/Stack A.

“Where do you two just hang out? Watch a movie, play cards, do whatever married people do.”

“We don’t anymore. She goes to the library or a park or just wanders during the day, then she has rehearsal in the afternoon and evening. I’m usually at work or out in the field. When I’m not home she’ll couch surf or get a hotel room for the night so she’s not completely alone. We see each other when I’m in town and we meet back in the apartment to sleep or I pick her up after a show. Most of the time we communicate via e-mail.” He sighed as he zipped up the bag. “I miss her company.”

“I can imagine.” Morgan was poking around the other two rows, away from where he was working. “I found another symptom.” He said. “Which one of you has a thing for cooking magazines?”

“Both of us,” Spencer admitted. Somehow they just gravitated to them, and to dreams of a cozy warm home full of safety and life and love and food, all they wanted. He tossed that bag out into the hallway and pushed past Morgan to get to Row C/Stack 7/Shelf 6, where they kept the supply totes. He took one to Row C/Stacks 1 & 2 to start filling up supplies, meal replacement shakes, the coffee and tea that was their indulgence, a plastic shoebox with something Lucero wanted to work on, a new sketchbook and tin of pencils for him.

“Is that it?” Morgan asked.

“Except for Lucille,” he stopped at the very front of Row A and lifted a case for an electric guitar. 

“She named her guitars?” Spencer could only shake his head. Morgan picked up the tote and duffel, left Spencer his go bag and the guitar. “All right, let’s get out of here.”

Maybe someday I can just go home, Spencer thought, as he headed out with his friend.


	21. Chapter 21

**Chapter 21**  
  
October 2003

They got to the safe house, a nondescript house in a nondescript neighborhood. Spencer left the box of supplies in the kitchen and took the bags back to the room they had been assigned. There he found Lucero making up the bed with the electric blanket she’d purchased. “I brought what you asked for. “ He said.

“Thanks.” She dropped the bag he gave her and turned into his arms. Immediately he felt her hands burrowing under his clothing, trying to get her fingers warm. “Are we safe here?” She asked.

“As safe as we can be tonight.” He murmured with pleasure as her hands slid over the skin of his lower back and he reached up to caress her neck. “I’ve missed you.”

“I’ve missed you.” She leaned in to his touch. “They’re going to want us to have dinner with them, what do we do?”

“It shouldn’t be a problem.” He knew exactly how many calories a day she needed to maintain her current weight given her gender, height, age and activity, and exactly how many he needed. “You’ve been getting smaller lately, I can tell. You haven’t been eating enough the past couple of weeks.”

“Ever since you got back from LA.”

He couldn’t chastise too hard, he’d been doing the same. “That’s dangerous. We’d do better with a real meal tonight. Are you going to be all right eating in front of them?”

She was quiet a long moment. “I don’t know. You?”

That was the problem. After all that had happened the simple act of eating a meal had become something personal, something intimate, something to be done quickly and shamefully, skittering around in dark corners and hidden places or something to be shared only with the one person you trusted above all.   After that first safe year at CalTech they had only ever sat together. And now? He knew that they were likely bringing pizza or Chinese or something and they would be expected to go sit at a table surrounded by some friends but also strangers and laugh and have a good time. It just felt so very alien to even consider it. “I don’t know.” He replied. “We’ll have to see. I know we’re here through the week-end at least. It’s supposed to snow.”

“Inside where it’s warm and safe and we’re together?” She smiled up at him. “Now that’s what I’m hungry for.”

“Same here.” They heard the sound of more people arriving. “Ready?”

“As I’ll ever be.”

But it turned out to be impossible. They brought pizza, boxes of it, hot and greasy and rich and bottles of soda so sweet it would make your head spin. “You hungry kid?” Furnelli asked.

Spencer looked over at Lucero and sighed. She had so much passion, so much power when she stepped out on stage and took on the world on her own terms. But in this setting, at this time, it was all taken from her. She looked so small, huddled back into her sweater, watching the men around the table with those big, scared eyes. “Actually I think we’re just going to head to bed.” Damn, he could feel the team’s eyes on him. “It’s been a long day.”

“Suit yourself.”

Spencer snagged the box of supplies he brought from the storage unit on the way back to their room The meal replacements would hold them until everyone was in bed, then maybe he could sneak out and bring back some leftovers. “I’m sorry.” Lucero said quietly as he closed the door behind her. “I just couldn’t. I don’t even know those people.”

“I know.” He said quietly.

“Right now I just wish we could go away from everyone and figure this out.”

“Me too. Chocolate or vanilla?”

“Chocolate, please.”

He just tossed her the bottle when there was a quiet tapping at the door. He should have known who it was. “Hey Garcia.”

“Hey. Are you okay?” She asked as she closed the door behind her.

Was he? Mostly. “Yeah.” He looked over at Lucero. She’d calmed down now that they were in here. “Yeah.”

“Okay, then you two need to come and have dinner.” He didn’t have to look to know that the fear flared in his wife’s eyes. He only hoped he controlled his own well enough. “There’s nothing to be afraid of.” Garcia said. “He’s not here.”

“I know.” Spencer said. How the hell could explain it. “It’s just that....”

“You’re safe.” She insisted. “We’re all friends here.”

“But you’re not all lovers.” Lucero said. Leave it to the bard in the room.

It took Garcia a couple of minutes to parse this. “Right. Okay, we, meaning me and the rest of the team, need to take several steps back here. Which is not a bad thing, it just needs to happen.”

“Therapy is on the short list.” Spencer admitted. They were a mess, he knew that, but there was no point in fixing it while they were still at risk. Once this was settled and Eduardo was out of their lives they could get healthy, emotionally as well as physically. Not before then.

“Good.” Garcia said. “And we will help in any way we can. Now I’m going to assume that if you’ve been living off that stuff.” She frowned at the bottle of meal replacement in his hand. “That pizza is going to be too much for you. I expected that so I came prepared to cook.”

She what? “Garcia, you didn’t have to do that....”

“Yes I did and I do, shush. Now I am going to go cook and I will tell you when it’s done and then you can bring it back here and you and your wife can have dinner. Unless you think you can come sit in the kitchen.”

Spencer thought he could sit in the kitchen. He was even willing to brave the pizza, he was comfortable enough with the team for that. But Lucero was a concern. He looked over and read the longing and curiosity in her eyes that was mingling with the fear. “I think we could make the kitchen.”

“Okay, good.” Garcia grinned. “Because they’re talking poker after dinner.”

Lucero chuckled. “We can’t miss that.”

“Come on then. Leave those bottles here.” Garcia tucked an arm around Lucero’s shoulder and led her from the room. Spencer trailed along behind. “You know I went to CalTech, I was a Pageboy for a year and a half.”

“Really?” Lucero broke out in a smile. “We were in Avery.”

“Ohhh, I’m sorry. That must have been so boring. Especially at you age.”

“Not really.” Spencer said. “I was the envy of the freshmen for at least the first few years. The worship was nice.” He grinned at Lucero who rolled her eyes back.

“What? Ahhhh!” Garcia smacked him on the arm. “Okay, sit. Stay. Here.” She pulled a carton of milk out of the fridge. “Have some. And here, if you’re up for it.” She reached into a bag and brought out a big bag of Oreo cookies. “And I am making Jell-O tonight for tomorrow.”

“How did you...?” Lucero shook her head. “Elle asked. I thought it was in passing. You people are sneaky.”

“We can be. I brought some butternut squash soup from the store, how does that and grilled cheese sound?”

Spencer felt his stomach knotting. That was the problem, it sounded heavenly. Lucero look over at him and knew what he was thinking as intimately as he knew what was in her mind. It would be so easy, but they weren’t exactly safe yet....

And Garcia was watching them both. “One step at a time.” She said. “You can go back to it in the morning if you need to. We don’t need to wave a magic wand here.”

They wanted this. They wanted this so badly. Not just the food, although Spencer could feel his stomach pinching, it was the warmth of the kitchen and the acceptance and the friendship and even the love here. It felt like family and they had been alone for so long. But discipline mattered, on some level he was proud of himself, proud of his wife, for having done what they did for so long. Could they put it down and then pick it back up when they needed to. “One night?” He asked her.

He saw the same thoughts and longings in her eyes. “One night.” She agreed.

As Garcia beamed at him he opened the Oreos.


	22. Chapter 22

**Chapter 22**  
  
October 2003

“And you’re okay with them?” Peterson asked. “I found out that my partner spent a few years living with Salazar and didn’t tell anyone and I’d be asking some hard questions, let me tell you.”

Morgan considered this, as he had been all day. “Yeah, they’re good people. They’ve made nothing but right turns since they got away from him. Hell, they ran away from him. I can’t fault someone for getting a bad roll of the dice.”

“Yeah, well, better you than me.” They looked up as a few more people came in. “All right, I got to go brief the night crew. You guys staying?”

“Me and Garcia tonight. You’re not staying for poker?”

“Not a chance. Dr. Reid’s reputation precedes him. I’d like to pretend I’m good at it for a while longer.”

As Peterson moved off Garcia came out of the kitchen. “I’ve come to steal pizza, if there is enough pizza.”

“There’s more than enough.” Elle said. “Please tell me this means you got them to eat?”

“Oh yeah, they are working on mugs of soup as we speak and were ooing over my grilled cheese and yes, they both love Oreos and milk. I want to bring a pizza back in case they want more.”

“Help yourself momma.” Morgan was grinning. Okay, if they were eating then they weren’t that sick. They still could heal.

“But what happened though?” JJ asked.

“I think Lucero had something like a PTSD reaction.” Garcia said as she went to load up a pizza box.

“Oh. That makes sense.” Elle said.

“For us non-profilers, please.” JJ asked.

“Well, for a couple of years there everyone around her sexualized the act of eating and kept forcing her to be involved. It’s like forcing someone to watch porn or sit in a room while two people have sex, it can be traumatic, especially if she wasn’t developmentally ready to go that far. Then Salazar reinforced it randomly over the next several years. Now she can never be certain if once she starts eating the people around her are going to start acting out sexually. In order to avoid that the best thing to do would be to avoid eating in front of people.” Elle said. “But you said Lucero, not Reid?” She asked Garcia.

“No, I think his issue is a little different.” Garcia replied.

“Of course,” Morgan said with a grin, “Exposure therapy.” He looked over at JJ. “One way to treat PTSD is by slowly exposing someone to whatever they’re afraid of. Every time he sat down with us he got exposed to a group of people who don’t sexualize the act of eating. She hasn’t had that.”

“But he wouldn’t leave his wife to eat alone, of course.” JJ nodded.

“When you start with something like this usually it’s all about making exceptions.” Garcia said. “So at first no one is safe except her husband, because he’s generally safe.”

“How did you get an exception?” Elle asked.

“CalTech students and alumni are safe. They ate around them for years and no one ever did anything.”

“Hopefully soon the team will be safe.” Morgan said. “Then the rest of the FBI, then let’s say the band she works with...”

“Eventually the number of safe people will grow so big that it will click over and she’ll realize that safe people aren’t the exception, unsafe people are.” Elle said, “In other words, Salazar and his henchmen. It’ll likely take her a little bit to get there but she will. But what was up with Reid?”

“He’s having trouble letting go.” Garcia replied. “He’s been trying so hard to stick with this and helping her stick with this for so long that he’s honestly afraid that if he lets go of the discipline of it, as he put it, then they’ll just go wild and she’ll end up being caught.”

“That boy needs a vacation.” Morgan said.

“Yeah, two weeks in Bora Bora would do him a world of good.   I told him we wouldn’t let him completely fall apart, we would help him work to get back to being healthy, starting after breakfast tomorrow, so he could relax gradually. And that includes you, my god of fitness.” Garcia said.

“Bring it on, I’m there.” Morgan agreed. “In the meantime, if they do come out to join us, don’t call attention to it. Just act like it’s normal, let them move at their own pace.”

“So long as they are eating,” JJ said. “And they’re healthy.”

“There’s a clinic Reid wants to work with.” Garcia told them. “Between the snow and security I don’t know when they’re going to get there but I’m going to see if I can set up maybe a video link, they can work with the doctors that way.”

“And we are going to work on building the profile on Salazar.” Morgan said.

“First thing in the morning, please?” Elle asked

“Sounds good to me.”

 


	23. Chapter 23

**Chapter 23**  
  
October 2003

The soup was utterly heavenly. It was spiced just right, cinnamon and nutmeg, faintly sweet and oh so rich. It was like drinking this heavenly golden velvet. First meal of recovery, Spencer thought, and it’s utterly wonderful.

He heard Lucero clear her throat and opened his eyes to see her looking at him with an amused smile. “Keep that up and we’ll go eat in bed.” She said.

“Sorry.” At this point any meal had the potential to be sensual, but they were determined to never go there. Sex and food were kept very separate. “It’s just so good.” They’d been living off quick, high-calorie food for over two years now, usually processed and cold and inhaled to avoid being caught actually eating. Just sitting here enjoying a meal with his wife again was an experience. But was he really doing this with her? “You should try it.”

She poked at the soup with her spoon. “I don’t know.” She admitted. “I’m still scared.”

He sighed. It wasn’t a true eating disorder. At least he hoped not, he hoped she was afraid of her uncle, not food. “I know.” He said, taking her hand. “But we’re not going to heal over night. It takes a minimum of eight months, more than likely a full year before we’re back to normal. Even if we ate all week-end Ernesto and the others still wouldn’t want you.”

She sighed again, “All right.”

“Really?”

In reply she set the soup aside and picked one of the sandwiches. Crusty and golden, and when she lifted half the cheese stretched into long, thin ropes. One bite and he saw an expression on her face he hadn’t seen in years. “Oh god...”

“I know! Stop that.” She met his eyes, smiled and took another bite that was all tease. Okay, the soup was good but he had to try the sandwiches. “Still want to learn to cook American?”

“Hells yes. Come home to this after work....”

“I would not complain.” Oh those sandwiches....

Someone knocked at the kitchen door. “Can I come in?” Morgan asked as he stuck his head around.

Spencer realized he didn’t care. He’d sat through enough meals with the team to know that eating with friends was a good experience, one he was looking forward to actually enjoying for the rest of his life. He looked over at his wife, for her it was still new and potentially dangerous. But she shrugged. “You always were a gentleman, smooth talker.”

“The guys needed Garcia to check on something with the bugs back at your place.” Morgan said as he came in with a pizza box. “Hawaiian?”

“Please.” Spencer said. As mellow and non-spicy as pizza got. He was gratified to see Lucero nodding her agreement. “What are they working on?”

“They couldn’t find any audio surveillance going at your place, only video. Garcia said it looks like it’s going to some kind of aggregator, someone who’s editing it for the good parts and then sending them off to him.” Morgan grabbed something to drink from the fridge and came to sit with them. “So they came up with the idea of giving him something to watch. Not you two.” Good timing, Lucero’s eyes were just starting to go wide. “But if you two don’t mind if we use your place...”

“It’s not really ours anymore.” Spencer said.

“...They’re looking over the Bureau list, see who they can get who looks close enough to you two, put them in undercover. You might have to coach them a little to act like you...” They both nodded their agreement. “Hopefully that will give him enough to take multiple deliveries. Garcia can use that to track his whereabouts.”

Spencer quickly poked at this from all angles. “He’s likely to attempt a kidnapping at some point, what’s to keep him from trying with those agents? He is a psychopath, and the cartel does not treat agents well.”

“Snow,” Morgan said. “There’s a blizzard coming in. We’re taking a couple of empty units in the building for security and everyone is going to button down tight. No one is going to be going in or out for a good three days, maybe longer. That ought to give us enough time. As soon as the snow lifts those two as you two will go get on the road again.”

“Blizzard?” Lucero asked.

“It’s a reasonable plan.” Spencer nodded. “Once we get his location we can get surveillance on him. Then we just need to find a way to make him slip up, drop his control somehow.”

“Thanks to the weather we’ll have a few days to work on the profile.” Morgan said. “Hopefully something will shake out.”

“Blizzard?” Lucero asked again.

“Yeah. They’re predicting up to 40 inches.” Wait. Spencer turned and looked at his wife, who likely looked about as pale as he felt. Morgan chuckled. “Last year was your first real winter, wasn’t it?”

“Yeah.” Last year he had been at the Academy, indoors most of the time. And for all that it had been miserable they’d actually had a fairly mild winter, never more than six or eight inches of snow. Just the thought was giving Spencer chills.

“Well don’t worry. Most of us have gone to this party. Elle and JJ are going to try to get home to their families but Garcia and I are staying here with the OC guys. We’re going to start going out here in a bit, stocking up. Do not be surprised if she asks what you want to eat, she’s going all Momma Bear.”

“Does the fireplace in the other room work?” Spencer asked. This could be idyllic. Trapped in a warm place where they were safe and could start healing, if only for a few days.

“Yep. It’s a gas insert too; should heat the place nicely on top of the furnace. By tomorrow night we’ll be snug in here, the other team will be snug in your place and Salazar will be focused on them, not you. At least until the blizzard is over, hopefully by then we’ll be ahead of them.” Morgan looked back and forth between the two of them. “Just make a list of what you want.”

Lucero smiled and reached for the plate. “More stuff for grilled cheese.”


	24. Chapter 24

**Chapter 24**  
  
October 2003

Spencer woke the next morning and did not want to move.

Last night they’d sat with Morgan and then Garcia as they polished off the soup and sandwiches, meeting their concerned friends’ approval even though they hadn’t touched the pizza right off. Eventually they went out and joined the others for poker. Somehow a bowl of trail mix ended up at his elbow, where it was dully nibbled on while he fleeced the Organized Crime unit repeatedly, leaving them grateful that they were only playing for chips. Lucero had sat off to one side with Garcia, curled up warm and cozy with milk and cookies while the two of them planned out what they were going to do for the next few days. Then they actually had a little pizza before coming in here and getting into a bed that was so warm they were able to snuggle down and sleep more deeply than he had in years. Might have to do with a full stomach and being safe with the woman I love, he thought, but now I have no desire to move.

But he smelled coffee.

Good coffee.

He had a love hate relationship with the stuff, really. He hated the bitter, roasted taste of it but his addiction was strong. He looked over and saw that Lucero was still sleeping deeply, curled up like a kitten under the warm covers. He could go get a cup, bring it back, and read until she woke naturally. But the bed was so warm....

He stuck a foot out, then an arm. The room was warm too. Or maybe he just finally had something in him to burn.

They said to get comfortable, that he didn’t need to dress for work this week-end. Morgan and Garcia insisted they weren’t, they were going to collect comfortable things today. They would have to go back to the storage unit later. For now he pulled on the one pair of old cords he’d brought, an old t-shirt, some wool socks and his sneakers, and his glasses. Dressed enough for a coffee run he headed in the direction of that heavenly aroma.

“Fuck me.” Furnelli said.

“What?” Furnelli had just walked out of the kitchen with coffee. Spencer looked down at his Academy t-shirt. “You said get comfortable.”

“Yeah, he did.” Morgan said as he stepped out of the kitchen with his own mug, looking like he’d already gotten a workout in. He shook his head with a sigh. “You only ever come to work all bundled up.”

“Oh.” He looked down at the sticks his arms had become, how the shirt kind of swamped him. “Didn’t even think.” He turned and headed back to his room.

“I see why you’re concerned.” Furnelli said behind him. “How the hell did he pass the Academy?”

“Waivers,” Morgan replied. “They were willing to work around it for his brains.”

“And that was supposed to somehow work against Salazar?”

Spencer missed the rest of the conversation. He closed the door to keep the warmth in and dug his favorite old sweatshirt out of his bag. That ought to help. It was from CalTech, bright orange, but they asked for it. He tried to be quiet but Lucero rolled and stretched and rubbed her eyes. “Good morning.” She said.

“Good morning.” He replied. “I was going to bring you coffee. Coffee or tea?”

“Coffee, I think. But I’ll get up.”

“Cover up if you come out. We’re kind of a spectacle.”

She looked down her front. “I think I will be anyway.” She said. “Derek’s only ever seen me in my stage outfit.”

He chuckled. “He’ll get over it. I did.” He bent down to kiss her then. “I think you’re beautiful no matter what.”

“Really?”

“Arf.” That left her chuckling. “Meet you out there.”

“All right.”

He resumed the zombie walk to the kitchen, making the agents on duty wince along the way. Finally made it to the kitchen only to find Garcia already bustling. She’d dressed down too, looked like it was appropriate after all. “Good morning. Did you get any milk for coffee?” Spencer mentally computed how much he could put in for how many calories before he remembered that he wasn’t supposed to be doing that anymore.

“Good morning.” She sang out. “Oh hey, go Beavers. I thought you drank black coffee.”

“I hate black coffee.”

Then why....ohhhh, no calories.”

“Yep.” Drove Uncle Ed nuts too. He insisted that was not natural.

“I did better than milk. There’s half and half in there and here.” She passed him a canister of sugar. “I got some chocolate syrup and cinnamon sugar too.”

Spencer blinked. “Lucero is going to love that. Thank you. Can I help at all?”

“Yes. Crack all these into here.” Garcia was bustling around the kitchen doing something that involved lots of mixing of stuff, now she handed him two cartons of eggs and a bowl. He built a cup of coffee, sweet and creamy, and set to cracking. “So I want to know what to call you now. I mean, you don’t have to hide anymore so you don’t have to use a different name....”

He considered this and shrugged. “I’m going to stick with Spencer Reid. My father insisted on naming me after his father but Mom wanted to name me after her favorite poet. And Reid was her maiden name. Besides, all of my degrees are under Spencer Reid, changing it would be complicated.”

“Oh. That makes sense. What about your wife? Lucero or Gabriella?”

“Lucero,” said that warm kitten voice from the doorway. She’d cleaned up, gotten comfortably dressed, her hair up in pigtails. Now she came over and placed a warm hand on the nape of his neck as she climbed onto the counter stool next to him. Warm was nice. “Gabriella was for my father’s mother, she started this whole mess. Lucero was my mother’s mother. She was an opera singer.   Besides, the devil and the queen. Is this for coffee?” She eyed the chocolate syrup by the pot.

“Yep,” Garcia smiled. “My step-dad was from Mexico City, he used to put chocolate in his coffee, and brew it with cinnamon. I couldn’t because of the guys but I figured this would be close.”

“Aww, it will be, thank you.” Lucero started building a cup. “What are you making? Can I help?”

“Scrambled eggs, bacon and pancakes; thanks, but I think I have it all together.”

Spencer stopped when Garcia said pancakes. All of a sudden his stomach seemed to give a lurch and start grumbling at him. They would be soft, he remembered, and mild and soaked with butter and that looked like real syrup over there...

“Pancakes,” Lucero turned to look at him with the same naked longing he must have had on his face.

“I’ll teach you how to make them if you want.” Garcia gave them a satisfied smile and turned back to the stove.

Spencer and Lucero shared a smile. This week-end was going to be wonderful.

 


	25. Chapter 25

**Chapter 25**

**October 2003**

Morgan was less than thrilled with the start of the week-end.

Mainly because of the storm coming in. Sure, it was snowing now, but they were predicting a full on storm by nightfall. So rather than sit and do what he wanted to do he had to go running all over hell and creation getting gear back to the house while they could.

The night before he and Garcia had gone to a 24 hr market to stock up on food for ten people for however long this was supposed to last. She had appointed herself head cook for the week-end. “You don’t have to.” He said.

“Yes, I do.”

“No...”

“No, I know you don’t mean that the Bureau would expect it of me or that any of you expect it of me.” She said. “Spencer is my friend, and Lucero is getting there really fast and it’s not fair that they learned to hate something as simple as sitting down to eat with family. That’s, like, basic. So I have to because it’s something I can do to help them get healthy and not just physically.”

“Since you put it that way.” He had learned never to get between Garcia and whoever she was trying to nurture.

So they had food and supplies in case of power outage, but that was not all they needed. He took Garcia back to her place for a suitcase, then to a storage unit she kept where they loaded up with electronic gear. Then he went with one of Furnelli’s men to one of their units to load up on more stuff for a safe house. He dragged a bundled up Reid back to his unit for more stuff for him and his wife. And finally he went back to his place for a suitcase and Clooney.

It took him longer to get back than he’d liked because he had to lose the tail he picked up outside his place. Bastards were playing cute here.

Clooney trotted into the house and immediately started barking at Reid. “Dogs don’t like me.” He said.

“I can see that. Clooney, hush!”

Lucero just laughed. “No, we’re really cat people I think. But I like dogs.” The house was a pretty simple place, a hallway with bedrooms and bathrooms at one end, the other a large open L-shaped space, with the short end by the kitchen for a dining room. At the top of the L they had the gas fireplace, the couches and a coffee table. Lucero had settled herself there, where she could soak in the heat of the fire and be away from the doors and windows and anyone trying to do FBI work. Now Clooney nosed his way over there and almost into her lap, getting lots of head scritches and baby talk. Morgan tossed his bed down by the fire, knowing that his dog had made at least one friend.

Now it was his turn to supervise while Furnelli went back to his place for his own suitcase. And after helping Garcia turn one of the bedrooms into her lair he finally had a chance to do what he wanted to do all day. “So what’s the best way to treat this?”

“Simple. Feed them.” After some research they had found that the best practices for treating eating disorders were coming out of a hospital in London. He’d called in a couple of favors to get a video call consult with one of the doctors there. “The first stage is to get them eating, as much as possible. Are they eating at all?”

“Oh yeah. They demolished breakfast.”

“Excellent! Psychological resistance is the biggest impediment to healing. Once you can get past that it’s mathematical. They need larger than expected calories to regain each kilogram, but it’s entirely doable.”

“How much do they have to gain? What’s the end point?”

“That’s usually determined as the weight needed to restore the menstrual cycle in cases of secondary amenorrhea. The simple version based on the WHO numbers is to get them back to a minimum BMI of 18. Based on the numbers you gave me....” Morgan heard some typing. “...you’re looking at 11,000 calories a day to achieve 1.5 kilograms/week.”

“Damn.” That was a lot of food. A lot of very dense food.

“If they can manage that it will get them back to the minimum threshold in about eight weeks. Now that’s not fully restored, but that’s the first, most important goal. If you can get them that far it takes a lot of the physical and psychological pressure off. We have a pamphlet I can email you with tips on how to get there.”

“All right, if that’s what we have to do. What about exercise?”

“Not yet. They need to get more weight on to support activity. We have time to discuss that in the future.”

“All right. Thank you Doctor, we’ll call back if we need you.” Morgan rang off and looked over at Garcia. She was already printing out some of the material the clinic had sent over. He had specifically asked them to send over the latest research in case he had to bludgeon a certain genius with it. Now she was looking it over and nodding. “This is the same stuff I was reading last night.”

“So no last minute runs to the market?” They had gone last night because today the news was already showing reports about shortages and the zoo out there.

“Nope. We should be good until after the storm.”

“Good.” He headed back to the main room where he found Lucero stretched out in front of the fire, her guitar on her lap, headphones on, using her laptop to write something. Clooney was curled up against the side closest to the fire. Spencer was stretched out on the couch on the other side, nose deep in the Sonora Cartel file. At least he wasn’t going to have to worry about too much physical activity.

“If I make milkshakes you two will eat them, yes?” Garcia asked.

“Sure.” Lucero said, even as she set her guitar aside to get up. “I’ll come help.”

“No. Stay.”

“You don’t have to wait on us you know.”

“Let me.” Garcia had her insisting face on. “It makes me happy, all right?”

Lucero sighed. “Only if you let me help cook later.”

“I’m making mac and cheese for lunch. You can help with that. What kind of milkshake?”

“All right. Coffee and chocolate.”

“Okay. Spencer?”

“That please. And thank you.” Spencer sat up and shook his head over the file. “I had no idea Uncle Ed was involved with all of this. I knew he was a business man and powerful but I had no idea how deep it went.”

Morgan blinked. “Only you would call the head of the Sonora Cartel ‘Uncle Ed’.”

Spencer flashed a smile. “It really annoyed him.”

“Good. Now stop looking at that and look at this.” Garcia had picked a bright pattern for what she called their game plan for getting them back to healthy. No, he didn’t know why. At least it would differentiate it from case files.

Spencer took it and started looking over the data. “Where did you get this?”

“Maudsley Hospital in London. I called in a favor. And don’t tell me it’s a breach of privacy.” Morgan stopped him right there. “It is, I know it, I’m doing it anyway. You two are family, no Unsub is going to screw you over on my watch.”

Spencer opened his mouth to object, closed it with a sigh, and looked over the data. Lucero, her headphones off, looked over and gave him a young woman’s grateful smile. “This is more recent research than I had.” Spencer muttered. “I thought we just needed nine thousand.”

“Nope. We do what the doctor says. Either of you going to fight over it?”

“No.” Spencer said; Lucero shook her head emphatically.

“Good.”


	26. Chapter 26

**Chapter 26**

**October 2003**

“Is this actually working?” Lucero asked. “How is this working? What am I eating?”

“It seems to be.” Morgan said. They were in Garcia’s lair watching the feed going through the cameras Salazar had planted in the Reid’s apartment. Two other agents who looked close enough were there for the week-end, pretending to be the now-hidden couple. “He’s watching them at least.”

“The videos are being sent to an aggregator.” Garcia said. “He’ll watch for what the Unsub wants to see and then send just those portions on to him When he does we’ll get his current location and his data stream, then we can track him better than he tracks you.”

“Hopefully he’ll tag onto the agents there thinking they’re you two.” Morgan said. “Maybe if he sees you two in one place he’ll try for it and slip up. All we need him to do is make one mistake.”

“ Oh, and you’re eating Mallowmars.” Garcia added.

“How have I never found these before?”

Morgan chuckled. “You know, you can’t do this on junk food and get healthy.”

Lucero shrugged. “I just want to get in the habit of eating again first.”

“Okay. I can see it for the week-end, but at some point you two should be setting goals or something.”

Spencer looked like he was considering this. “Let’s get the profile and a plan for catching Uncle Ed down first, then work on that.”

“Fair enough.” Just then they heard a phone ringing in the other room. Morgan moved to the other room where they had Reid and Lucero’s phones tapped for listening. “Don’t recognize the number.” Garcia had routed any number that had come in with harassment straight to recording. Now Morgan put on headphones and answered. “Hello.”

“Um yeah. I might have the wrong number,” said a male with a thick European accent that was almost familiar. “I’m looking for Lucero Reid.”

Morgan knew this voice. “May I ask who’s calling?”

“Yeah, Tim. Do I have the right number?”

All of a sudden he got it. “Yeah, hang on.” He pulled off the headphones, motioned to Furnelli to stop recording. “Someone she works with.” He handed the phone to Lucero. “Tim. Sounds like the DJ from the club.”

“Oh!” She swallowed and answered. “Thanks. Yeah, Tim, hi.” She took the phone and wandered off to find some privacy.

“How was the show?” Spencer asked.

“Amazing. She is something on stage.” Morgan chuckled. “You’ve seen her up there.”

“Um, no, actually.”

Huh? “You’ve never seen her on stage?”

“We don’t spend time in public together, remember?”

“Awww man, we have got to fix that.” That was not right.

They dove back into the profile. It wasn’t too long before Lucero came back out, this time without cookies. She looked almost scared. “What’s wrong?” Spencer asked.

It took her a minute to actually manage to talk. “Remember how I told you we were invited to perform at the Firefly Festival?”

Spencer nodded and looked over at Morgan. “It’s this huge music festival in Delaware.”

“They have a number of stages there. We’re supposed to perform on one of the smaller ones. Tim’s one of the headliners, main stage, evening.” She swallowed twice. “He wants me to perform with him. Three songs at least.”

Spencer broke into a grin. “That’s great!”

“Hell yeah,” Morgan said.

But her eyes were just getting bigger. “That’s _thirty thousand_ people! I have never....I have enough trouble making it through a set at the Tavern. I don’t know if I can....”

“When is this thing?” Morgan asked.

“End of July.”

It was the middle of October. “That’s ten months. There’s your goal, we can get you strong enough by then.”

“Really?”

“Yeah,” Morgan was glad to see Spencer nodding along with him. “So what are you going to do by then?” He asked.

Spencer didn’t have to think long. “What’s a good test for an agent?”

“The Yellow Brick Road.” The big confidence/obstacle course. “You could make that if you wanted to, it would clear nearly all the waivers off your file.”

“All right then.”

Awesome. Morgan was pleased, he was going to help his friends out of this jam and back on the road to healthy, strong and successful. Just the way it should be.

“You should have goals past that though.” Garcia said. “Everyone does, right? Like, I don’t know, buy a house, start a family...” All of a sudden Spencer started getting that eye twitch like his brain kicked in the afterburners. “Uh oh.”

“What?” Morgan asked.

“I know how to make him make a mistake.” Spencer looked over at Lucero. “What if I got you pregnant?”

“Just for that you sleep on the couch.” She replied.

That snapped him out of it a little. “No, I don’t mean really pregnant. What if we made Uncle Ed think you were pregnant? A...a risky pregnancy because of your weight?”

“Are you kidding? Like this?” She gestured to her body. “He’d come after me even harder. He’d do anything to get me somewhere and force me to eat to protect his brother’s grandchild. He’d lose his mind.”

“And a lost mind makes mistakes.” Morgan nodded. “This is not a bad idea.”

“This is crazy!”

“Yes but it would work.” Spencer turned back toward the lair. “Garcia....”

Just then an explosion filled the room.

 


	27. Chapter 27

**Chapter 27**

**October 2003**

Penelope Garcia woke in the most comfortable bed she’d ever been in.

Seriously, it was thick and soft, like lying in a cloud. It was even rocking gently, this soft, regular rhythm. She rolled and curled around a thick, down pillow and snuggled in with a little hum of pleasure.

Then she remembered.

They had been in the safe house, talking around the work table. And there had been this bang and this really bright light and this huge noise. And she remembered someone grabbed her and it smelled really bad and...and...

She sat straight up and looked around. The most comfortable bed was in the most gorgeous room. All polished wood and white furniture and mirrors and glass and this huge make-up table that was just stocked full and looked ready to play. But where was it?

She got out of bed, quite relieved to find that her clothing was still in place. Wait, her clothing was still in place. She reached into her bra and pulled out her other cell and looked. No bars, no calling for help. Oh boy. But why no bars? Where was she?

There were windows. She quietly slipped out of bed and tiptoed over. All she saw out the window was blue sky with puffy white clouds and blue water.   In fact that was all she saw out of all the windows. Oh god, she was on a boat!

Panic....no, don’t panic. Pull yourself together. Breathe and breathe and okay, now what? Did this boat have a bathroom? Best to do that first, before going to learn anything more.

It did have a bathroom, which was bigger than her apartment and had a tub that could fit four. She did what had to happen and washed up a bit because she looked smudged and horrible and better to go face whatever was happening with her brave face on, right? Right?

It took her three tries to find the door. She kept finding closets. Closets full of really amazing clothing. Closets full of really amazing clothing that looked like it would fit her, and really, if it hadn’t been for the explosion and the smell and that she didn’t chose to come here she might just think that this was kind of amazing. But she wasn’t here because she wanted to be, so when she found the door she took a deep breath and crept out and into the hall. Toward what looked like stairs going up.

And then someone came down them and started walking toward her.

He was not tall, was dressed in some kind of white uniform, and didn’t look threatening. Not at all in fact. He gave her a pleasant smile and a polite nod. “Excuse me.” She said. “Um, do you know whose boat this is? Or where we are?”

“Lo siento, no hablo Inglés.” He replied politely.

“No English. Great. Um...” She pointed to herself and then pointed up the stairs. He nodded and pointed up that way as well.

Not knowing what else to do Penelope crept up the stairs and toward the sunlight. She found herself in a large, elegant space, empty now, but men in uniforms were going through carrying things from one place to somewhere else, all in the same direction. She crept after them, ready to bolt at the slightest provocation.

Out on the covered deck a dozen large, well dressed men lounged with drinks, some looked to be playing cards perhaps, others were watching what might be a soccer game on a screen. Off to one side the men in uniform looked to be setting up a buffet perhaps. And right in the center was this handsome, slender man in a pale cream suit, overlooking it all. He caught sight of her, smiled broadly, and beckoned her to join them.

But before she could movement back in the room caught her eye. Penelope turned and saw Lucero come to the top of the stairs. She still looked rumpled, like she had just rolled out of that bed and like she didn’t care. For a moment she watched her friend nearly panic, she looked like a deer caught in a trap, but then she turned away from the group outside, scooped her hair back behind her ears, and straightened her spine. When she turned back she wasn’t scared little Gabi any more, she was the lead of Lucy and the Rockets, ready to mount the stage and command the presence of every man in the room. Or every man on that deck. She strode out of that door and headed straight for the man in the cream suit. “Have you lost your mind!!?” She all but screeched at him.

“Gabi!” He opened his arms, moved to pull her into an embrace. “Dios mío, mírate…”

“English!” She yelled, knocking his hands away. She gestured back to Penelope. “Since you dragged my friend into this the least you could do speak a language she understands. Where is my husband!! What have you done with him!?”

“He is downstairs. I’m sure he will be joining us shortly. Now behave yourself. And introduce me to your beautiful friend.” Eduardo Salazar stepped over and offered his arm to Penelope, to guide her out into the light.

* * *

 

In the meantime Spencer was down in one of the staterooms, thinking very fast.

Of all the people he did not want in the same room when he came out from under whatever sedative he’d been given Ernesto Villegas was in the top two. “What the hell?” Spencer said as he sat up. “He’s lost his mind.”

“Perhaps,” Ernesto replied. He was sitting on the window ledge cradling a cup of coffee. “You know what he wants.”

“I don’t want it.” Spencer said. “I never wanted it. Hell, I became a Fed! It’s all yours, you can have it.”

“Not a real Fed. Some analyst.”

“Is that what he told you?”

“Someone your size couldn’t pass.”

Spencer rolled and fished his badge out of his pocket, tossed it at Ernesto who caught it easily. “I did. Full on SSA.   Did you take Gabi as well?” Ernesto began cursing quietly as he looked the badge over. “You took a Federal Agent’s wife. They’re going to come after us with everything they have.” Ernesto tossed the badge back, got up to pace the room. “What will the Cartel do when they find out he’s done this? What will they do when the men on this boat are captured?”

Ernesto sighed and shook his head. “You know what they will do.”

“Look, I don’t care about any of it. I just want my uncle out of our lives.”

“You don’t care?”

Well, no, he couldn’t promise that. “I’ll give you a head start. I won’t come after you or any of the others and I won’t say anything to the FBI until I have him in custody. You can have it all, the organization, the house, the money, all of it. The only thing I want is my uncle and Gabi. I’ll fight you for her if I have to.” Ernesto started laughing. “What?”

“I never wanted Gabi.”

“Then why....” But before Spencer could finish his thought Ernesto took two strides across the room, caught him by the chin and kissed him, hard.

Oh boy.


	28. Chapter 28

**Chapter 28**

**October 2003**

“P...Penelope.” Garcia managed to stammer out. Okay, this was an Unsub. He killed people, he killed men quickly and brutally and he killed women slowly and horribly and he was an awful, awful person. But in that moment she could see how he managed to get woman after woman to his side. For a woman like her this could be a dream come true, easy.

“Penelope. A lovely name for a lovely woman,” Salazar cooed. “Come, join us for brunch. You are a friend of my niece, yes?”

Lucero had been standing there, staring out to sea. Now she turned with a sharp, knowing smile. “She’s my doula.”

“Your what?”

“My nurse.” She turned back out to gaze at the ocean. “For la cuarentena.”

Salazar stopped and stared at his niece, his jaw dropping. He took a deep breath as his eyes went wide. “Ayyyyy!!!!” A smile of pure joy lit his face as he went to pull Lucero into his arms. “A baby! There is a baby on the way! I’m going to be el abuelito!” The other men murmured their congratulations.

She pushed him away again. “If you think I’m going to be separated from the father of my child...”

“No! No, of course not. Not unless he refuses to see reason. He cannot protect you or the child as frail as he is, you know that. And how can he afford a child on his salary, hey? We must make him see reason, and stop being a stubborn child! But look at you,” He stepped back and looked over her too slender frame. “Are you strong enough for this?”

All of a sudden Penelope knew what she had to do. “No. No, her pregnancy is very fragile right now.” She said, stepping to her friend’s side. “She needs special care, no stress, bland diet, lots of rest, the works.”

“Ahhh, of course. Of course.” He held up a finger and turned to the staff, shouting orders at them to go do...something, she didn’t know what.

“How am I doing?” She murmured as she tucked her arm into Lucero’s and they moved away.

“So far so good,” Lucero replied. “This ought to keep him under some control. I hope.”

“There now,” Salazar said as he returned to them. “I ordered you a very bland breakfast. Now you must eat, stop being so stubborn. You have to take care of the baby after all. And you...” He turned to Penelope and offered his arm again with a charming smile. “Please, join me.”

* * *

 

Thankfully the kiss did not last long. Ernesto stepped back and looked over Spencer, still holding his chin. “No?” Spencer shook his head. “Damn.” He let go and stepped away. “I was hoping you married her for...how do you say... conveniencia?”

“Convenience? No, we have an honest marriage, I actually do love her.” Spencer considered this a long moment. “Eduardo only goes after women, how come...”

Ernesto threw open his arms. “Have you ever looked at gay men?”

“Um, not really...”

“They are like peacocks! They are perfect, flawless! They shape their bodies into perfection! Your uncle feeds me up like a pig for the slaughter; I have no hope of keeping any man like this. If I could just get rid of that sick freak I’d cut until I lost a hundred pounds and then put fifty of it back on in muscle, first thing! In six months I could have any man in Vegas I wanted.”

“I’ll send you diet tips.” Spencer said. “Would you be willing to help us?”

“To get rid of that freak? What can I do?”

Spencer took a deep breath.

* * *

 

There was no way around it; they were going to have to eat something.

The table under the awning was groaning with food, platters and bowls and baskets of it. And Penelope knew that if she started eating any of it she was going to end up in the Unsub’s crosshairs. But she couldn’t think of any way out of it. “Please.” Salazar said as he started building her a plate. “Nothing but the finest for the woman to help my niece through her time of blessing. Gabi,” He turned to his niece as a waiter came out with a smaller tray. “Start with some chocolate de leche and some pan dulce, very easy on the stomach, yes? And stop rolling your eyes, you need to grow up and be a proper woman. I don’t know what happened, you were turning into such a beauty and now look at you.”

“My husband loves me the way I am.” She replied.

“Because he is a fool. He spent too much time on his own after Diana got too sick to look after him, he picked up all sorts of bad thoughts. Look at him, going to work for the government with a mind like that, just for rebellion. But he will learn, now that he has a baby on the way. He will learn.”

“What? What will he learn?” Penelope stammered out. “I mean, I know why you want your niece back but what do you want with Spencer?”

Salazar looked at her, then at Lucero and laughed. “Did you not tell her about him?’ He turned back to Penelope. “My late wife’s nephew is a genius, just like me. He is much like the son I never had. Who better to take over when I decide to retire?”

Penelope took a deep breath. Oh boy.


	29. Chapter 29

**Chapter 29**

**October 2003**

“I’m not hungry.” Lucero said.

Well that began the war. Salazar got that patient irritation look on his face and walked over to the rail where Lucero was looking over the water. He commenced yelling at her in Spanish and she started hollering back. The whole thing took up several minutes, but ended when Salazar raised his hand and backhanded his niece across the cheek. “Oh! Oh! No hitting! No hitting! Bad for the baby!!” Penelope got up and ran over to her friend.

“That did no harm to the child.” Salazar said, his voice crackling with anger. “My niece needs to learn reason. She needs to feed her child.” He turned away coldly.

“He’s right. You should. You know, eating for two and all of that.” Penelope put her arm around Lucero’s shoulders and guided her back to the table, settling her into a seat in front of a cleared space where her back would be to her uncle and the other men. “The rule is pacify the Unsub until the team finds you.” She whispered.

“But...”

“Just do it.” Penelope sighed as she saw some of the light go out of her friend’s eyes, but was happy to see her nod. Hopefully Morgan and the others weren’t too far behind them; hopefully they would get here soon. She looked up as the waiters brought out fresh trays. “See, eggs, toast, easy.”

“Oh all right.” Lucero was clearly not happy with this but she let Penelope fill her place and started picking at it at least.

“Good. Good good good.” Okay, Lucero couldn’t be relied on to deal with the Unsub, so it was going to be up to her. Penelope stood and straightened her dress and turned to face the Unsub.

Who had, thankfully, gone back to being charming. “I am so sorry you had to see that.” Salazar said, coming up to her again. “Children can be so problematic at times. Some take so long to grow up.”

“I understand. You know, family is just part of the job....”

“Of course. Come, join me.” He swept her off toward the table where his niece was sitting. Along the way he plucked a canapé from a tray, some little bit of toast with what might be caviar on top and presented it to her lips. Pacify the Unsub, pacify the Unsub. Penelope took it with her teeth and suppressed her shivering when he purred with pleasure. “I must know how she found you.”

“One of my friends in college introduced us.” Lucero all but snarled. She was poking at some poached eggs with her toast. Penelope glared at her until she actually ate some. Thankfully Salazar took that moment to speak to a waiter, he didn’t see his niece’s eyes widen with longing, or hear her stomach rumble.

“Good. All that schooling was of some use then. Come. Had my niece told you about me?” He guided Penelope to the seat across from Lucero and began filing her plate with delicacies.

“No, not really.”

“Ahhh.” Movement caught her eye.   Penelope looked up as another well dressed man came out on the deck, gathered up the others and they disappeared inside. Salazar watched this with interest. “Excuse me.” He got up to see where they were going.

But just as he reached the cabin he came across someone coming out. “Hello Uncle.” Spencer said, coming out on deck like he owned the place. “I was going to call you; I was just waiting for the storm to pass. Oh, Ernesto thought we should have some family time.” He strode across the deck to Lucero’s side. “How are you?”

She smiled and laid a hand over her belly. “ _We_ are fine.”

“Sure?” He tipped up her chin to examine the bruise slowly growing on her cheek. When she nodded he plucked a bit of croissant from her plate and presented it to her lips. “Don’t forget, you’re eating for two now.

As Lucero took the bit of pastry slowly Salazar chuckled warmly. No, lustfully. Penelope looked over and realized that yes, he was wearing very lightweight pants. And this was his niece and ew, just ew ew ew. “I see you have finally come around Miguel. Good. But becoming a Fed?”

“It might be useful, at least in the short term. If we can keep them from suspecting anything.” One of the waiters came out with champagne. “I took the liberty; I hope you don’t mind...”

“Not at all! The return of a prodigal must always be celebrated.” Salazar accepted a glass with a murmur of pleasure. “Eat, girl. Listen to your husband.” Lucero rolled her eyes and went back to poking at her eggs. “You should eat as well, Miguel.”

“I intend to.” Among the platters weighing down the table was one of cooked chilies wrapped in bacon. Spencer reached over and snagged one, gave his wife a reassuring wink when her eyes went wide with fear, and took a healthy bite. His only reaction was a murmur of pleasure.   “To be honest I missed your cooking.”

That had Salazar laughing. “Finally! Now you will grow strong, you will see. Come, let us leave the women and discuss business.” He gestured for Spencer to join him at the rail.

Penelope looked over at Lucero. She was just staring, wide eyed. “Eat.” She hissed quietly.

Lucero nibbled at the toast and then went back to poking at the eggs. “I can’t around him. I just can’t.”

“I know. Keep faking it.” Penelope went back to toying with her own food, all the while watching Spencer and Salazar have champagne over by the rail.

Until Salazar was distracted. “What is that?” He asked, turning to a sound beneath them.

“Ernesto taking the tenders out, I believe.” Spencer said calmly.

“What?” Salazar leaned over, just as a smaller boat pulled out of the docking bay under the ship and started speeding off, joined by another from the far side. Both were full of Salazar’s men. “What is he doing?”

“Leaving.” With that Penelope watched Spencer reach out, take the champagne bottle by the neck, flip it over, and bring it down hard on his uncle’s head.


	30. Chapter 30

**Chapter 30**

**October 2003**

"Goan Vindaloo," Spencer said.

Lucero gapped at him. "What?"

The struggle had been brief. Neither man was all that strong; luckily Spencer had the advantage of surprise. It hadn't taken long for him to get cuffs on his uncle, or for him to take another set acquired from somewhere and secure him to the rail. The cut to his uncle's head was shallow enough to not be a huge concern. "What the hell are you doing?" Salazar bellowed.

"Arresting you," Spencer replied. "Oh yeah, Eduardo Salazar you're under arrest for kidnapping, extortion, drug running and...and...we'll get a list going. You have the right to remain silent..."

While Spencer rattled off Salazar's Miranda rights Lucero turned to Penelope. "Goan Vindaloo?"

"I have no idea." Penelope replied.

Spencer finished and returned to the two women, leaving his uncle to growl and thrash in rage. "Goan Vindaloo . It's a type of curry made in southern India, commonly of goat but chicken and lamb can also be used. Also Naga Bhut Jolokia chilies. Commonly called the ghost chili it rates 1,041,427 Scoville units, coming in behind the Trinidad moruga scorpion and the Carolina Reaper."

"And you...eat this?" Penelope asked.

Spencer nodded. "Back at CalTech when Lucero and I stopped eating together I realized that we might have this encounter at some point and it would be a good idea if I learned to tolerate the heat. A number of the guys in the Engineering department were from India so I asked them to cook for me and worked my way up to it."

"Oh."

He looked back at the man kicking and thrashing on deck. "Um, we might want to move to the deck at the front of the boat. Garcia, there's a laptop in the salon that should have enough data on it to convict Uncle Ed there of, well, everything. Would you secure it please? Lucero, your Spanish is obviously better, could you ask the crew for a satellite phone please and for one of the crew to tend to Uncle Ed's cut so long as he behaves."

"Sure. What about Ernesto?" Lucero asked

"I said I wouldn't go after him until I had Uncle Ed in custody, in exchange for taking the men and getting out of the way. Um, would you consider this in custody?"

She looked over at where her uncle was snarling and shrugged. "Sure. What's going to happen to him?"

"Uncle Ed? He'll end up in the ADX prison. Solitary for the rest of his life, all contact with the outside world carefully monitored. He'll never bother us again." Spencer smiled. "They'll likely medicate his thyroid issues for him. He'll have an appetite for the first time in his life. And he'll only have bland American prison food, I'll make sure he doesn't have any pepper sauce or anything."

"Oh." She considered this deeply for a time. "All right, I'll go ask the captain for a phone and meet you on the front deck. Um, would it be wrong if I asked the Chef if he could cook an American breakfast?"

"Not at all. In fact, ask for two."

"Three." Penelope said from the doorway. "As soon as I secure this laptop I'm going to go find a bikini."

* * *

To say that Morgan was relieved was an understatement.

The one good thing about the BAU was that their Unsubs were not rational. Sure, that meant that they could go off in a hundred wild ways, all hard to predict, but there were a few things they did not do. And one of those was look for members of the unit having money trouble and then bribe them.

Unfortunately that was not an uncommon problem with the Organized Crime unit. Salazar had bribed someone to tap the security system and then tell him where the safe house was located. As soon as everyone was sufficiently snowed in his men had taken the house, and then Reid, Lucero and his baby girl, likely since they had only expected one woman in the house and didn't know which was which. And that would not stand.

Morgan had pulled out all the stops to find them, of course, but was getting nowhere fast...until Reid called him five hours ago and told him that everything was secure, come get them.

Now he was on a Coast Guard cutter pulling up to a luxurious yacht. Once everything was secure he, Furnelli and Peterson made their way over to the floating palace. A flash of his badge to the crewmen and he was pointed toward the bow of the boat. That was where he found his baby girl lounging in a bikini with an umbrella drink, Lucero stretched out in a sarong with what might be a milkshake and Reid in the clothes he had been wearing when he was taken sitting with a cup of coffee at the head of a table littered with plates of things. "You three look comfortable." He said.

"I have to admit, being the scion of a drug lord is very enjoyable." Spencer said. "But it's a bit much for everyday."

"I wouldn't mind staying on the boat until the end of winter." Lucero said.

"Amen sister." Penelope replied.

Morgan couldn't help laughing at them. "Where is Salazar?"

"Aft deck starboard, cuffed to the rail." Spencer replied. "We secured his databases, which should be all the evidence we need."

"I'll go get him." Furnelli said. "You three..." Hell, he was chuckling too as he and his men headed out.

"Did you get Ernesto?" Spencer asked.

"Coast Guard picked them up two hours ago." Morgan replied. "Just where you said they would be. You know they're going to confiscate everything, if you two have any family heirlooms you might want to grab them now. We won't say anything."

Lucero reached down and picked up a small bag. "Pictures of my family," she said. "My grandmother's rosaries and jewelry, that's all. The rest can go with him. I never want to see any of it again."

"You don't want this?" Peterson asked.

She shook her head. "All I ever wanted was a home. This life is not that."

They started to make their way back to change and head out. Spencer hung back with Lucero a bit. Um, there was one thing Ernesto said."

"What?"

"He asked if ours was a marriage of convenience. It was all about getting away from your uncle, and now..."

He never got to finish his sentence. She grabbed him by the front of his shirt and hauled him down to her eye level. "Don't you even think it." She said. "I never want to be married to anyone else." Then she kissed him into forever.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry my posting schedule has been a bit slow. The last date to ship gifts for the holiday in the US is Dec 15 this year. Knitting has become a priority and distraction. But I'll get the last chapter of this up in the next couple of days and then get the new one going.
> 
> Of course there's a new one.


	31. Chapter 31

**Epilogue**

**June 2004**

"Reid." Elle said, musing in her voice. "Come here."

"What?" It was months after he had arrested Uncle Ed. In that time Spencer and Lucero had focused on getting healthy, undoing the damage the years of dealing with him had done physically and mentally. He would always be an ectomorph, long and lean instead of bulky, but the body that moved in her direction was carrying muscle now. He couldn't fight like Morgan, couldn't lift like him, but he could out-sprint him now, and run for a lot longer. And other than aching legs from time to time he felt amazing. He had no reason to complain.

"Take your shoes off." She said as she stood and started gathering things out of her desk.

"What?"

"Take your shoes off." Okay. He slid his shoes off and padded over when she motioned him. "Stand against the wall."

"Seriously?"

"Stand against the wall. Straight." He stood with his back to the wall and felt her ruler lightly touch his head. "I said straight." He adjusted and heard her scratch a little mark with her pencil. "Hey Garcia, how tall is Reid in his personnel file?"

"Ummm..." Garcia sat at Elle's desk and accessed the files. "Six-one, why?"

Elle got her measuring tape and checked. "Because he just went down in history as the first agent to go through a growth spurt while at the Bureau. Six-four."

"What?" Spencer was shocked. No way.

"Yep. You stopped eating before you finished growing. Looks like you finally caught up." Elle said.

"You're taller than Morgan and Hotch now." Garcia said with a smile.

Spencer considered this, and then smiled. "I'm not going to complain."

* * *

"Hey." A familiar voice called out to Spencer. "There you are. Did we miss it?"

Where he was was in the middle of a very crowded VIP box at the Firefly festival, listening to a DJ get the crowd worked up. "No." He told Morgan over the music. "They're up next."

"Cool. The Chief said he'd give you your yellow brick when you got back." Morgan yelled back. He had his arm around Penelope, who just beamed.

"Thanks. I know Lucero wants to be there." His yellow brick. He had passed the confidence course just that morning, the only time he could, knocking the waivers out of his file. Not the best score ever but a solid one. It was the result of months of patient hard work and healing but it was all worth it. Now the team knew they could rely on him to keep up in the field.

"She will be. We'll make sure of that."

Just then the music changed, the crowd cheered and Tim the DJ took the stage. They turned to watch and wait anxiously.

Twenty minutes in the music shifted, the stage lights went down, and a spot light focused on a single woman. Nothing flashy about her, jeans and a white shirt and a red guitar named Lucille.

_We, we don't have to worry 'bout nothing_   
_'Cause we got the fire, and we're burning one hell of a something_   
_They, they gonna see us from outer space, outer space_   
_Light it up, like we're the stars of the human race_

Spencer held his breath. She seemed nervous, a little on edge, not quite comfortable. Maybe it was the new sort of music or still getting used to having energy in her system or maybe it was that forty thousand people were watching her. Could she do this?

Then she built to the chorus, swung Lucille off her hip, hit the chord and as he watched the magic picked her up and took her. In that moment she became the most alive thing in the universe.

_And we gonna let it burn, burn, burn, burn_   
_We gonna let it burn, burn, burn, burn_   
_Gonna let it burn, burn, burn, burn_   
_We gonna let it burn_

* * *

 

Two nights later they celebrated his award, her success, their finally being cleared with good, solid health. Celebration was pizza at Moe's with the team, eaten in public without fear.

And now there was this. Quantico was a military base, home to the US Marines as well as FBI headquarters, but it was also a town. A very secure town set in the middle of that base, but also a quiet little New England village with a bustling downtown, a train line to DC and a lovely park on the water. There, safe from the cartel and any other demons out there, they had found a home. "I want to celebrate tonight." Lucero said as they climbed the steps to the front porch of the small cottage.

"I thought we had been celebrating."

"We have. I mean something different."

"Oh?" For an answer she turned and kissed him, a meaningful sort of kiss that promised a great deal and begged for even more. Not the first time they had returned to this after getting back to healthy, but something that still surprised him. "Oh."

Of course that was when his phone went off.

Lucero was leaning against his chest and laughing quietly as he hung up. "You have to go to work." She said with no anger in her voice.

"Amber alert." He replied with a sigh, before leaning down to kiss her again. "Rain check?"

"You know it." One more kiss. "Come home to me."

"Always."

* * *

"What is this?" Elle asked as she stepped through the doorway.

This was a small, luxurious business jet, all sleek wood and white leather. "It was confiscated by the DEA." Hotch said. "We were assigned since time is important with some of our cases. They're hoping it will save money as well."

"I'm not going to complain." Gideon said.

But Spencer was laughing. "What?" Morgan asked.

"Look in that seat." He said, pointing to a grouping of two chairs by the galley.

Morgan poked around the seat, finally sliding his hand between the seat cushion and the back. He came back with some slender bits of plastic. "Guitar picks? Wait, this was Salazar's old plane?" Spencer nodded. Morgan laughed, "Looks like we're all going to live the life of a kingpin's kid now."

"This time it's working for good." Hotch said. But he was looking at Spencer when he said it. "Let's get to work on the case."

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> http://youtu.be/CGyEd0aKWZE
> 
> Lyrics from "Burn", words and music by Ryan Tedder, Elle Goulding, Greg Kurstin, Noel Zancanella, and Brent Kutsel. No copyright infringement intended.
> 
> And so we come to the end of another tale. Once again much thanks to my editor REIDFANATIC, who thankfully shares my love of '80s pop-rock.
> 
> My next story is going up tonight so those who want can subscribe. Posting will be a bit slow until the holiday gifts are done, but they will keep coming.
> 
> Thank you all for reading!
> 
> \- TKL


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